This latter was a young man, dressed loudly in brand new clothes, waving a slender cane with a dandified air, his whole bearing suggesting a person trying to look important and attract attention. This was the fellow the sight of whom had apparently induced Markham to plunge out of sight into the cistern.
Bob Haven stared hard after the receding figure of the stranger.
"Well, well!" he was saying as he approached Frank.
"What's the matter, Bob?" inquired Frank.
"Did you see that fellow just passed by?"
"Yes, do you know him?"
"I did once—thoroughly. Heard he was in town. The nerve, now!"
"Who is he?"
"He's bad all through. Name is Dale Wacker. When Bart Stirling first took his father's place as express agent here, that fellow's uncle plotted to down him. Worse than that, he stole a lot of stuff from the express people. The police were after him. Dale, his nephew, was mixed up in it, and had to leave town. Heard he was in jail somewhere for some new exploits. Came back yesterday, I learned. Seemed to have plenty of money and tried to cut a figure showing it. Says
