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Page 15
THE MAN AT THE BROOK
Beside the brook stood a shabbily-dressed man, apparently fifty-five or
sixty years old. He wore an old rusty black coat and a soft hat with a
hole in it. His face was tanned and partly covered with a beard.
The man was acting in a manner to excite anybody's curiosity. He
carried a stick in his hand, and was poking around in the water with
it. Every once in a while he looked around, to see if anybody was
observing him.
Straining his eyes, Adam Adams saw a strip of white floating on the
water. Once or twice it disappeared. Finally the end of the strip
caught on an overhanging bush, and then the strange man withdrew his
cane from the brook.
As he turned around the detective dodged out of sight. Apparently
satisfied that he was not observed, the strange man leaned down at the
bank of the brook, took something from his pocket and placed it down on
the moist dirt. Then he took another object from his pocket and
repeated the operation.
"Can they be shoes he has in his hands?" mused the detective. "And if
they are, what is he doing with them?"
Hearing the slamming of a door at the mansion, Adam Adams drew still
further back among the bushes. A minute later he saw the man make a
long leap, clear the brook, and hurry away among the trees and
brushwood on the other side.
"Humph! Perhaps this is worth investigating," mused the detective, and
made his way to the spot the strange individual had occupied. On the
bank of the brook he saw the marks of the man's broad shoes and also
some prints made by smaller shoes. The latter prints were irregular,
and at once arrested the detective's attention. He smiled grimly to
himself.
"Clue number one!" he muttered.
Adam Adams looked around in the water. Soon he came upon the strip of
white, and, pulling on it, brought to light a white silk shirtwaist,
torn to ribbons in front and at one sleeve. He wrung the water and mud
from the garment and examined it. Inside of the collar band were the
initials, "M. A. L."
"Margaret A. Langmore," he murmured. "Those initials are hers. If the
shirtwaist was hers, how did that fellow get possession of it? And did
he place it here or find it here?"
Drying the garment as much as possible, he placed it in his pocket, and
continued his search around the vicinity. He spent fully an hour in
the locality, and then walked back the way he had come, and into the
mansion. There he found Thomas Ostrello In conversation with the
policeman.
"It is a terrible blow to me," the commercial traveler was saying.
"And to think I was here just the day before it happened! If I had
remained here over night, it might not have occurred at all!"
"Well, that's the way things happen," answered the policeman. "Once I
was at one end of my beat when a thief broke into a store at the other
end and stole sixteen dollars and two hams."
"And I suppose they blamed you for it."
"Sure they did. I was laid off for a week, without pay. If anything
happens it is always the poor copper who is to blame."
"Well, the family are not blaming you for this."
"They can't--especially as they've got the person who did the deed."
At this Thomas Ostrello shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know about that."
"You don't?"
"No. I'd hate to believe any girl could do such a fearful thing as
this." The commercial traveler paused. "I'm going to take a look
around. I suppose it's all right."
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