Ashley was willing to compromise and two days later found him en route for Raymond.
Jack fishes the brook as he does everything else—without any waste of mental or physical exertion.
Landlord Howe did not deceive him. It is an excellent trout brook, and by the time the sun is well up he has acquired a well-filled creel. He is sauntering along to what he has decided shall be the last pool, when, as he turns a bend in the road, he runs upon a man lying beside the path, with one arm shading his face and clutching in the other hand a package.
"Hello!" sings out Ashley, stopping short in surprise. The man arises and passes his hand over his eyes in bewilderment.
"Off the main road, aren't you?" queries Ashley. The stranger makes no reply. He bestows upon Ashley a single searching glance and hurries down the road in the direction of the village.
"He'll be likely to know me again," is Jack's comment. "Gad! What eyes! They went through me like a stiletto. What the deuce is he prowling around here for at this time o' day? He isn't a fisherman and he can't be farming it with those store clothes on. Well, here goes for the last trout."
The last trout is not forthcoming, however, so the fisherman unjoints his rod, reloads and fires his pipe and strolls slowly back to the hotel. Landlord Howe sees him as he comes swinging across the basin and waits with some impatience until the young man gets within hailing distance, when he informs him dramatically:
"Big murder at Raymond last night."
"How big?" asks Ashley, with lazy interest. Murders are frequent episodes in his line of business.
Well, it is the largest affair that Mr. Howe has known of "round these parts since dad was a kid." Roger Hathaway, cashier of the Raymond National bank, has been found murdered and the bank robbed of a large sum of money, and there is no clew to the murderer. The details of the tragedy have come over the telephone
