The Mystery Megapack

least little bit, he yielded, and showed them a long, slim skeleton key, one of a bunch he kept on a ring.
    “There are probably some doors and drawers in this county that this collection wouldn’t open,” he admitted. “But I doubt if there are any in Fast Harbor! Better watch out for your spoons and jewelry, Mrs. Weston!”
    “The spoons go with the house, and are guaranteed to be silver plated,” Annie assured him. “And as for jewelry, you’ll have to go to New York and pick the lock in my safety-deposit box to get that. Unless my wedding ring tempts you.’’
    Teller bowed gallantly. “Only to the extent of wishing it might have been given to you by me, madam!”
    “Why, how perfectly sweet of you! Frank never says such nice things to me.”
    “No, but Frank bought the wedding ring!” her husband reminded her.
    It was a cheerful meal and, after it was finished, Teller insisted that it had waked him up so thoroughly that he didn’t feel inclined to finish his nap, which he would postpone until later in the day.
    When the dishes were done, they gathered about the table in the parlor, careful to keep the windows shut. Weston himself sat where, through a crack in the blinds, he could observe any one approaching the house.
    “Of course, I haven’t anything to report as yet,” Teller stated. “I devoted last night to looking over the sites where the crimes took place. And let me tell you, the woods were swarming with amateur detectives! Everybody but the bedridden—that is, every man—in this neck of the woods is out for that five hundred dollars’ reward! Some carry lanterns, a few have pocket torches, and one or two of the local constables go without any lights at all; they are the only ones that worried me. They really do know a lot about tracking; they don’t make much noise as they move about, and most of them can shoot fast and straight. But I managed to get what I wanted without being seen or heard; although once or twice I almost brushed elbows with some silent patrol.”
    He spread out on the table a large road map of the country. Taking from his vest pocket a soft red pencil, he began to mark certain crosses and arrows and lines upon the map.
    “Here, you will note, is the location of the Bronson place; and this, a few miles beyond Cranberry Beach, is old Tucker’s cabin. Here is the cottage that was broken into; nobody living there, you remember. It was while scouting about it that I had my narrowest escape. Cautious as I was, some guard must have caught a glimpse of me; anyhow, first thing I knew a gunshot raised the hair on my head! Buckshot, the fellow was using; it pattered onto the cottage wall not a foot above my head. I was scared stiff, but not hurt. Dropped flat, and crawled off to a great lilac bush, and from there gained the road. I never saw the man who shot at me, but could hear him thrashing about hunting for me.”
    Annie drew her breath sharply. “But you run terrible risks! Wouldn’t it be better to let the sheriff know who you are, rather than be killed through an error?”
    The little man shook his head vigorously. “That’s a risk I’ve got to take. It’s all in the day’s work, or rather, the night’s work! Once I am known, my usefulness ends. Everybody will be tagging me about, and the criminal will know I am coming a mile before I’m in sight, Might as well hire a brass band to accompany me! No, my only chance of capturing lies in my remaining incognito. But, look!”
    He pointed to the map. “By setting down every single site connected with the crimes, we get the first necessary layout of the field of battle. This map, revised from day to day, shows the precise range of the bandit’s activities. This is the sort of thing the postal agents work out when there is an epidemic of stolen mail. Every time a loss is reported, a mark is made on the map; and in time, by an intricate system of geometrical cross-lines, we manage to locate the headquarters of the gang. That is something I hope to do with this lone ruffian, if he remains undetected long enough to commit a series of crimes.”
    He refolded the map, and pocketed it.
    “And that is absolutely all I have to tell you,” he said. “Can’t expect definite results the first night! This sort of chase is likely to prove a long, stern one. But I don’t mind telling you this purely theoretical notion of mine: when found, the bandit will prove to me a man known to a good many residents hereabouts. You