"Not positively."

"I told you I had a great surprise for you."

"Yes."

"Well, I have."

"I like to be surprised."

"No doubt, but you can't guess what I've got for you."

"Oh, yes, I can."

"You can?"

"Yes."

There had come to our hero a most strange, weird and startling suggestion.

"You can guess?"

"Yes."

"Then you must be a Yankee."

"No, I am not."

"And you can guess?"

"Yes."

"Will you bet on it?"

"Yes, and give odds."

"You will?"

"I will."

"We won't bet, but you would lose; tell me the surprise."

As stated, there had come a very startling suggestion to the detective's mind. He looked very wise, and said:

"If I were to antic.i.p.ate you, then I'd spoil the surprise."

"No, you would not; but it would be me who would receive the surprise."

"Very well, I'll tell you, Mr. Douglas, you have the clothes the old man wore on the day he was killed."

"I'll swear I have not told you so."

"No, you did not tell me so, but you admit it now."

"Yes, I admit that I have the clothes; that was the surprise I intended for you, and it is wonderful that you should suspect."

"I am pretty good at suspecting."

"I see you are. But hold on; it was forty years ago. I think I have the clothes; I cannot be positive, but since you have been talking to me I remember I received the clothes from the coroner a long time after the old Frenchman's death. I secured them to hold for identification."

"And it was a very wise precaution."

"It was beyond doubt, as matters have turned out; but remember, I am not positive that I have them. I believe I have, but sometimes my good old wife has a general cleaning out and may have disposed of them; but I will find out."

"When can you ascertain?"

"Oh, in a little while; come, we will go up in the attic. I remember putting them in an old trunk, and if I have them they are in that trunk still."

"Your wife may remember."

"No, her memory is failing; she would not remember anything about it, but we can very soon learn."

The detective had made the last suggestion in his eagerness to make sure that the clothes were not lost.

The old man led the way up to his attic, and our athletic hero lifted a number of old boxes, and finally came to a trunk, old and green with mold, and the old man said:

"That's it--yes, that is the box. Haul it down and we will soon learn, but I will swear that they are there, for that box has not been disturbed, as you can see, for many years."

The detective stood a moment wiping the perspiration from his face, for it was hot up in that attic, and he was excited. After a moment, however, he hauled down the box and watched the old man as the latter proceeded to open it.

CHAPTER V.

THE SECRET OF THE OLD BOX--A GHASTLY FIND--WONDERFUL CONFIRMATIONS--STILL MORE WONDERFUL DETECTIVE WORK--A NOVEL SURPRISE--THE DEAD ALIVE--AN ABSOLUTE IDENTIFICATION.

"Great Scott!" cried the old man, as the lid of the box flew off and disclosed a package of old clothes--yes, old apparel including hat and boots.

"Here they are," he said; "I don't swear, but darn it, if this isn't wonderful--yes, it's a surprise after all."

"It is the hand of fate," said the detective, in a solemn tone.

"It's fate or some other darn mysterious thing; but here are the clothes--the very clothes the old man wore the day he was killed."

The clothes were taken from the case and thoroughly examined, but the vigilant detective made a discovery which led him to say:

"They are not blood-stained."