agent, and he was now all attention. "Do you mean to say the fellow was a thief?"
"He was!" cried Matt.
"I don't see how he could be anything else," added Andy. "Did he pretend to have an order for the cases?"
"Yes, he had a written order."
"And the bill of lading?"
"N—no, he didn't have that," was the slow reply. "But I thought it was all right. He looked like an honest chap. You had better notify the police at once."
"We will," said Matt, "What sort of a looking fellow was he?"
As best he could the freight agent gave a description of the man who had driven off with the goods and the turn-out. Matt and Andy both listened attentively.
"By the boots, I'll bet it was that Paul Barberry!" almost shouted the young auctioneer, ere the agent had ceased talking. "This is his way of getting even with us for not taking him into partnership."
"Perhaps you are right," returned Andy. "Did you say anything to him about the wagon being here?"
"I did." And Matt briefly narrated the conversation he had had with the corn doctor.
