"I turned a needle searchlight on him just as he was givin' up the business, and I have got a little photograph of him at the house.

His face is mostly beard, but you'll know him." "What became of him ?" asked Clewe.
"My light frightened him," he said, "and the wind took him over into the woods.

I thought, as you were comin' home so soon, I wouldn't do nothin' more.

You had better attend to him yourself." "Very good," said Clewe.

"I'll do that." The home of Roland Clewe, a small house plainly furnished, but good enough for a bachelor's quarters, stood not half a mile from the station, and near it were the extensive buildings which he called his Works.