"I don't care for Mr. Crocker's dog," Susan said uneasily. "Michael may not be around to help us out of trouble again."

"Oh, we can be careful," Penny replied. "Anyway, I think that Rudy is mostly bluff. I doubt he would bite."

"I notice you had a different opinion when he was coming at you!"

teased Susan. "But if you're brave enough to go I suppose I'll tag along even if we do get bit."

"I have a great curiosity to learn if Walter Crocker's car is still in the barn," Penny confessed. "Somehow I keep feeling that there's some mystery about that fellow's disappearance."

"If the dog is around we'll probably never get within a mile of the barn. But come on! You'll never be satisfied until we're chewed to bits."

The girls did not choose their usual route which led along the road.

Instead they cut through the woods, intending to approach Mr. Crocker's place from the direction of the barn.

When Susan and Penny emerged from the trees they were on Mr. Crocker's farm. They could see two men standing by the barn.

"There is Herman Crocker now!" exclaimed Penny as they halted. "But who is with him?"

"It looks a little like Michael Haymond," said Susan.

"It's not Michael," Penny corrected. "Why, I do believe it's Walter Crocker!"

"Old Herman's nephew!"

"Yes, I'm sure it is he."

"But Penny, you said he disappeared," Susan protested. "You thought Old Herman was responsible----"

"It seems I was wrong," Penny admitted ruefully. "I may have misjudged Herman Crocker completely. I thought he was an unscrupulous person, but it doesn't look so much like it now."

"They're having some sort of argument," Susan observed. "I wish we could hear what they're saying."

"Let's try to get closer. We can move behind the barn and probably hear everything without being observed."

The two men were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to see the girls moving stealthily across the clearing. A moment more and they were protected by the barn.

Penny and Susan crept as close to the men as they dared and then stood listening. They could hear Walter Crocker speaking.

"This is the last warning I'll give you," he told the old man. "Will you fork up the money or shall I go to the authorities?"

"Give me time," Herman replied in a whining voice. "I've already given you all the cash I have in the bank."

"I know better," said Walter Crocker grimly. "You have plenty of money but you're too miserly to part with it. But maybe you'd rather keep your stolen gold and go to jail!"

"You can't send me to jail--I've done nothing wrong."

"No?" asked the other mockingly. "I suppose you consider it perfectly legal to appropriate the inheritance of your nephew and lead townfolks to believe that your sister died without leaving a child."

"You have no proof that you are Jenny's child. I'm not going to pay you another cent. It's blackmail!"

"Call it what you like," replied Walter Crocker with a sneer. "I am your sister Jenny's child whom you thought to be safely out of the way.

And I do have proof."

"I don't believe it," retorted the old man. "There could be no proof."

"You've already given me five hundred dollars hush money which is indication enough that you accept my story as the truth."

"I did that merely to get rid of you."

"Well, you'll not escape so easily this time, Mr. Crocker. Either you turn over a good portion of the estate to me or I'll go to law."

"Your case would be thrown out of court. Without proof----"

"My proof will stand up in any court," Walter Crocker interrupted. "It happens that I have a certain packet of letters which were written to you by my mother before her death. And there is another communication from a woman named Hilda Frank----"

"So you are the one who stole the letters from the trunk of my cottage!" Herman Crocker cried in rage. "I could have you arrested for house breaking!"

"I'd not act too hastily if I were you," returned the nephew coolly.

"However, I didn't steal the letters. They came into my possession in a perfectly legitimate way."

"I know better. You could have obtained those letters only by stealing them!"

"I'll not argue with you," replied Walter Crocker evenly, "for after all it is immaterial. The point is that I have the letters. Now will you come to terms or shall I tell my story around Kendon?"

There was a long silence and then the girls heard Old Herman say in a weary voice:

"How much do you want?"

"I thought you would be reasonable in the matter," the other returned triumphantly. "I understand that my mother left an estate of eighty thousand dollars."

"It was a great deal less than that," Old Herman muttered.

"Not wishing to be too hard on you I'll settle for an even fifty thousand dollars," Walter Crocker went on.

"Fifty thousand dollars," the old man groaned. "It's robbery."

"You forget that I am ent.i.tled to the entire estate. It was you who robbed me. Well, do you agree?"

"You must give me time to raise the money."

"I'll expect a first installment in exactly one week from today,"

Walter Crocker said firmly.

"I'll pay it only on one condition," replied the old man with rising spirit. "You must deliver to me the packet of letters. Otherwise I'd be blackmailed out of every penny I own."

"You'll get the letters all right."

"Show them to me now."