"What's the news, Frank?" asked Bob, after Frank had gone into the house and had seen his mother.
"They haven't caught the robbers."
"It's queer how the fellows have gotten away without being seen, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, Bob, and that's what puzzles the marshal, my mother says."
"I'll be back after supper, Frank," said Bob. "I wonder if Sammy will be over?"
"He said he would," replied Frank.
"All right, I may want you to go somewhere with me."
"What do you mean?" asked Frank.
"I'll tell you after supper."
Bob went away, very thoughtful. He was doing much thinking. At the corner of two streets he stood still for a long time, as if trying to make up his mind to something.
"It can't do any harm to follow out my idea," he said to himself and started up quickly.
Bob went straight to the home of Miss Simmons. He had not seen her since the day he had noticed the tramp leave the place. Bob found her seated in a rocking-chair on the porch, sewing.
"Why, how do you do. Bob?" said the old maid. "I thought you were coming to see me? I wanted to give you something for helping me get back those letters."
"I don't want anything for that. Miss Simmons," replied Bob, "but there's something else you can do for me, if you will."
"What is that, Bob?"
"I'd like to know if that tramp I saw here brought you back those four letters."
Miss Simmons flushed and fidgeted. Then she asked, sharply:
