"Good day, my friends!" was the greeting of the detective as he closed the door behind him, strode forward and saluted Mike, who, after his exclamation, rose from his chair and, open mouth and staring eyes, limply clasped the hand that was offered him.

"I wasn't looking for you, Mike, but I was searching for Hor--I beg pardon, Orestes Noxon. I hope I see you well, barring the slight injury to the leg inflicted by Mr. Gerald Buxton last night."

And what did the officer do but shake hands with Noxon, who kept his seat as if in a daze? Mike, who was watching the couple, instantly noted a significant fact. Beyond question the two were acquaintances. The face of the young man flushed scarlet and he said faintly:

"Well, Mr. Calvert, you have got me at last."

"Yes; and a right merry chase you have led me. You won't get away this time."

"I suppose not."

"Sit down, Mike," said the caller, drawing up a chair for himself. "I have something I would like very much to say to thee, Orestes."

At this moment Aunt Maggie swung through the door again. She had seen the man enter and wished to know what it meant. Calvert sprang to his feet and bowed.

"I have found a couple of good friends of mine, who I am sure are greatly indebted to you for your hospitality. One cannot fail to tell by your looks that you have a wonderfully kind heart----"

"Arrah, now," replied Mrs. McCaffry, pushing away the hair in front of her face with her fat hand, "but ye are the worst blarney of thim all.

I'll have nothing to do wid ye till dinner time, whin I'll stuff ye all so full of roast pig and praties that ye'll be obleeged to kaap quiet regarding dacent folks."

She knew the three wished to talk over private matters, and made sure they were left alone for the next hour or two.

"Mr. Calvert," said Noxon, "Mike here has proved himself a true friend to me--so you may talk freely before him. He doesn't know my right name and says he doesn't care to know. So we will let that pa.s.s. What caused you to look here for me?"

"Warner Hagan met me in Wisca.s.set yesterday to give what help he could in running Kit Woodford and his gang to earth. Early this morning we heard of the attempted robbery of the Beartown post office. We hired a launch and got there as soon as we could. n.o.body in Beartown suspects our business. It did not take us long to pick up all that was known. We learned that one of the three got peppered with bird shot, and managed to limp off in the woods. Of course I recognized the three young gentlemen who were accepting the hospitality of Mrs. Friestone, the postmistress.

They required no immediate attention and were sure to turn up all right in the end.

"I left Hagan in Beartown to look into matters further while I set out to hunt for the fellow who had limped off in the woods, after turning the tables so cleverly on Mr. Buxton. Without any reason that I could explain I formed the suspicion that this member of the gang was you, Noxon (I believe that is your travelling name). It was represented that he was hurt much worse than I am glad to say was the fact. I inquired at each house along the road between here and Beartown and hit it at last.

"Now," added the visitor as if seated with his intimate friends, "since you tell me to talk freely in Mike's presence, I shall do so. Are you ready, Noxon, to go to your home with me?"

"Begging yer pardin, Mr. Calvert, I beg to say that has been sittled. The dearest hope of Noxy's heart is to return to his parents."

"Is that so?" asked the detective of the young man.

"I would give my right hand," he solemnly replied, holding it up, "if I could go back three months in my life and have things as they were."

"You can't do that as regards time, but it will bring sunshine and happiness to your loved ones when the wandering boy comes to their waiting arms. All being true, we have got to travel the 'rocky road to Dublin.' You have committed a serious crime against the United States laws, and if convicted nothing can save you from a long term in prison."

"Then what hope is there for me?"

"You haven't been convicted yet, but I won't deny that you are in serious danger of it."

"How shall I escape?"

"I thought that over while on the road from Beartown. This, I believe, is your third essay as a burglar. Am I right?"

Noxon nodded.

"Once would be enough to send you to Atlanta, but let that go for the present. Are you willing to turn state's evidence?"

Noxon moved uneasily in his seat. The proposition was distasteful.

"You needn't feel any compunctions. Kit Woodford and that cub who calls himself Graff Miller have handed out the double cross many a time, and stand ready to do it again if it promises the slightest advantage to them. They have run off in the hope of taking care of their own hides, without caring the snap of a finger what became of you."

"There is no mistake about _that_, Mr. Calvert?"

"I wouldn't deceive you for an instant. Their own actions prove it. They have done the same thing before, and to-day they did not give you a thought, when danger threatened them."

"I shall do whatever you wish."

"Good! You may not know that, although I am a Pinkerton detective, I am under promise to my lifelong friend to do all I can to save you from yourself."

"Does father know I am in this business, Mr. Calvert?"

"He doesn't dream of such a thing. The shock would kill him. Therefore, I shall strain every nerve to keep him from ever learning the truth. I have a plan in mind, but before trying it you must answer a few questions."

"I am ready."

"In the first place, where do this gang with whom you have been a.s.sociated have their headquarters?"

"I can guide you to the exact spot."

"It is not that little patch of ground in the cove at the southern end of Barter Island?"

"No; the character of the islet forbids. Miller ran the launch in there one night when he thought some one was watching, to throw him off the scent. Have you a pencil and bit of paper anywhere about you?"

Calvert produced the articles from an inner coat pocket and handed them to Noxon. Placing the paper on the table in the middle of the room, he spent several minutes in drawing a diagram. He was apt at the work and did it with no little skill. By and by he handed paper and pencil to the owner with the remark:

"That will answer your question."

"It is a production of art," said the detective admiringly. "No professional artist could beat it."

Noxon had not only drawn a perfect representation of the neighborhood which he had in mind, but lettered it so that no mistake was possible. It pictured a part of the eastern sh.o.r.e of Westport Island, opposite Barter, and only a short distance north of the inlet where the _Water Witch_ had been visited some nights before. Noxon leaned forward and placed the tip of his finger on the different points.

"Right there is one of a hundred similar coves among the waters of southern Maine. It is smaller than the others, and a little way back is an island, which resembles except in size those that you see in every part of these waters. You know they rise above the surface like vast bouquets, with trees growing down to the edge of the river or sea. It is not so with that bit of earth you first asked about, but it is so with the islet in that cove which I show on that piece of paper."

"What about this one?"

"It is what you may call the headquarters of the Woodford gang of post office robbers. And, yet, it seems hardly right to call it that, for it is sort of hiding place to which they flee when things begin to grow warm."

"You have been there?"

"Several times. I will go again with you."

"No need; I can't go wrong with such directions. Why, Mike himself can understand it."

He gravely held up the drawing before the Irish youth, who squinted one eye and carefully scrutinized it.