“Bring the book and come on, Penny,” Mr. Nichols ordered tersely. “We don’t want Crocker to catch us here.”

Penny snatched up the account book, slammed shut the desk and followed her father to the door. Susan was waiting there, nervously watching the entrance to the narrow lane. A car was just coming into view.

“Duck into the pine grove,” commanded the detective.

The three disappeared behind the trees just as Herman Crocker’s battered old car wheezed up the lane. Mr. Nichols and the girls remained motionless until the old man and his grandson had gone into the house. Then they moved noiselessly away, keeping to the evergreen grove until they reached the main road.

“Penny, what were you starting to tell me about an account book?” questioned Mr. Nichols as they paused.

“I’ll show you,” offered Penny.

She opened the account book to the item which had drawn her attention, but in the dim light it was difficult for Mr. Nichols to make out the fine writing.

“Michael Gladwin,” he read slowly aloud. “I seem to be thick headed ”

“Oh, Susan and I didn’t tell you that part!” Penny cried. “We think Gladwin is Michael Haymond’s real name! He dropped a handkerchief bearing the initials ‘M. G.’, and when we were over at Glenhaven we learned from the former matron of the institution that a strange person who might have been Herman Crocker, brought a boy who was named Michael Gladwin to the Home.”

“There seems to be quite a bit going on that I know nothing about,” Mr. Nichols remarked dryly. “Suppose you start at the beginning, Penny, and tell me everything.”

“Are you sure you’ll not think my ideas wild?” Penny asked teasingly.

“I am quite willing to retract my words,” Mr. Nichols said. “Your ideas and theories are proving remarkably sound.”

Penny and Susan were only too glad to relate everything they had learned about Michael Gladwin.

“I’ll question the young man just as soon as we reach the cottage,” promised Mr. Nichols. “We’ll get at the bottom of this matter and see if it can be straightened out.”

“Michael may deny everything,” Penny said thoughtfully. “He has some particular reason for wishing to keep his past a secret. Dad, I have an idea!”

“What is it, Penny?”

“Why couldn’t we drive over to Ferndale to-night and take Michael with us? He’d have no suspicion that we were calling upon Mrs. Havers until he met her face to face!”

“Confronted with the former matron you believe that he would break down and confess the truth?”

“Yes, I think he might, Dad. At any rate, Mrs. Havers could establish definitely whether or not he is Michael Gladwin.”

“Your plan is a good one,” Mr. Nichols said after a moment’s reflection. “We’ll start right away if we can locate Michael.”

“He usually walks down to the village after supper,” Penny declared anxiously. “I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

Michael was just starting away from the cottage when Mr. Nichols and the girls arrived. The detective stopped him, explaining that they would like to have his company on a motor trip to a distant town.

“I don’t enjoy changing a tire at night,” Mr. Nichols said. “While I’m not looking for trouble, I’d like to have a handy man along just in case something happens.”

“I’ll be very glad to go, sir,” replied Michael.

“You might be getting the car from the garage,” Mr. Nichols directed. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

He started for the cottage after his light overcoat. Mrs. Masterbrook sat rocking back and forth on the porch.

“I hope you’re ready for your supper now,” she said tartly.

“I’ve not time to eat it, Mrs. Masterbrook. I am sorry to have annoyed you this way.”

“I’ve kept it warming for over an hour,” the housekeeper said crossly. “I declare, I can’t understand your comings and goings.”

Paying no heed to Mrs. Masterbrook’s grumblings, the detective found his coat and hastened back to the car.

“What shall I say if anyone telephones?” the housekeeper called after him. “Where shall I say you are?”

“Tell them you don’t know,” shouted the detective.

It was evident to Penny and Susan that Michael had no suspicion where he was being taken. Even when the automobile drew near Ferndale he did not appear to grow uneasy. He was so calm and undisturbed that they began to wonder if they had made another mistake.

“Of course the Orphan’s Home isn’t at Ferndale,” Penny told herself. “He probably doesn’t know that Mrs. Havers has left the Glenhaven Home.”

It was after nine o’clock when the car finally drew up in front of the former matron’s home. The girls were afraid that Mrs. Havers might have retired early and so were greatly relieved to see a light burning on the lower floor.

“Michael, why don’t you come in with us?” Penny asked as she alighted from the car.

“Oh, I’ll wait out here,” he replied.

“No, come along,” Mr. Nichols invited.

He took Michael by the arm and steered him up the walk. Penny and Susan went on ahead to ring the doorbell. They were a little worried for fear that Mrs. Havers would not wish to receive them so late in the evening.

After a long wait, the door slowly opened. Mrs. Havers, her face hidden by the shadows, did not readily recognize the girls. However, after they had spoken, she urged them to come inside.

Penny and Susan entered the cottage and waited for Mr. Nichols and Michael. Mrs. Havers turned to face the newcomers. For an instant she stared blankly at Michael and then she gave a cry of delight.

“Michael Gladwin! How glad I am to see you again!”

“Mrs. Havers!” exclaimed the young man. Then he became confused and glanced quickly toward Mr. Nichols.

“We’ve known for some time that you were Michael Gladwin,” said Mr. Nichols.

“Of course he is Michael Gladwin,” declared Mrs. Havers. “Who else could he be?”

“I have a great deal to explain,” said the young man, looking again at the detective. “I know you surely must be thinking that I have deceived you ”

“I am sure you had a very good reason,” replied Mr. Nichols kindly.

Mrs. Havers was deeply troubled by the conversation which she could not understand. She urged her visitors to seat themselves. Mr. Nichols, always restless in moments of stress, found it impossible to remain in a chair. He annoyed his hostess exceedingly by moving about the room, appearing to examine books, bric-a-brac and objects of furniture.

“Before we ask Michael to tell his story, I should like to have you look at this picture, Mrs. Havers,” said Penny. She offered the photograph of Herman Crocker. “Have you seen the man before?”

“Let me turn up the light. My eyes aren’t as strong as they were.”

Mrs. Havers studied the picture intently for a minute.

“This is a photograph of Mr. Keenan,” said the former matron. Her gaze wandered to Michael. “He is the man who brought you to the Orphan’s Home.”

“You are certain?” asked Mr. Nichols eagerly.

“Of course I am,” answered the old lady firmly. “I seldom forget a face. This is a very good likeness of Mr. Keenan as I remember him.”

“Mr. Keenan and Herman Crocker were one and the same person!” cried Penny. “I am beginning to understand everything now!”

“Then I wish you’d explain it to me,” said Michael. “I have known for some time that Crocker was supposed to be my uncle, but until now I rather doubted that there was any truth to the story.”

“How did you learn that he was related to you?” Penny asked quickly.

“Through an anonymous letter,” Michael replied. “It was forwarded to me after I left the Glenhaven Home. The writer informed me that my true name was Walter Crocker and that I would find evidence to support my claim to the Crocker fortune at your cottage.”

“So your visit to Kendon was made for the purpose of claiming Crocker’s money,” Mr. Nichols said musing. “What did you expect to find in our cottage?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Michael returned soberly. “I thought possibly there might be letters or photographs which would establish my true identity.”

“Were you the person whom I mistook for a robber a few nights ago?” Penny questioned.

“Yes,” Michael admitted. “I shouldn’t have been prowling about the house, but in the day time I never had a chance to search. When you heard me in the living room I ran out the door and hid in the woods.”

“And I suppose it was you who took a package of letters from the attic trunk,” Penny went on.

“I did take some letters, but they were valueless. To tell you the truth, I haven’t a scrap of evidence to support my claim.”

“I think we may be able to help you,” Mr. Nichols said slowly. “But you must answer several questions. I recall that when you first came to our cottage you told us you intended to see Mr. Crocker on business. Yet to my knowledge you never went to see him.”

“I don’t wonder that my actions appear contrary, sir. I intended to visit Herman Crocker immediately, but while I was at your cottage, a remark was dropped which led me to believe that another person who claimed to be Walter Crocker already had called upon my uncle.”

“That is true,” the detective nodded. “There is another young man who claims to be Walter Crocker.”

“You see my position, sir. I had no proof of anything. I was afraid that someone had played a joke on me. For that reason I gave a false name and said nothing of the matter. I thought I would wait a few days until I had gained more information.”

“You acted wisely,” Mr. Nichols declared.

“Obviously, Walter Crocker is an imposter,” Penny said. “But who is he? What is his true name and how did he obtain the evidence against Herman Crocker?”

“We may be able to answer all those questions before we finish with the case,” returned the detective. “If Mrs. Havers will testify that Michael is the same boy who was brought to the Glenhaven Home by Mr. Keenan and that Keenan and Crocker are the same person, it will be a simple matter to establish a claim to the fortune.”

“The man of this photograph is the same individual who came to the Home years ago,” declared Mrs. Havers. “I will be glad to sign papers to that effect.”

“The masquerading Walter Crocker is merely a blackmailer,” the detective continued. “Undoubtedly, he knew that he could never establish a court claim to the fortune. But with the letters in his possession, he was able to frighten Herman Crocker into dealing with him privately.”

“What finally became of the letters?” inquired Michael.

“Dad has them,” said Penny. “And we have other evidence which should help your cause. At Crocker’s house we found an account book showing that the old man paid the Glenhaven Home various amounts of money.”

“I can’t understand why a man would do such a thing,” Michael said slowly. “Why did my uncle hate me?”

“Probably he didn’t,” replied the detective. “You merely stood in Mr. Crocker’s way. Greed leads many a person astray.”

“It was queer that for years Herman Crocker fooled everyone in Kendon,” Penny remarked. “And then someone must have discovered his secret.”

“I am puzzled by the anonymous letter,” Mr. Nichols admitted, turning to Michael again. “I don’t suppose you have it with you?”

“Yes, I do. You may read it if you wish.”

Michael took a crumpled envelope from his inside coat pocket and offered it to the detective. Mr. Nichols scanned it briefly.

“The letter was postmarked at Kendon,” he said.

“May I see it, Dad?” requested Penny.

He gave the letter to her and she studied it for a moment in silence. The communication contained no new information. As Michael had said, it merely hinted that he was the true heir to the Crocker fortune, and that he would find evidence to support his claim at the Knob Hill cottage. Penny was more interested in the handwriting than in the message. It seemed to her that it looked strangely familiar.

“Why, I’ve seen this writing before!” she exclaimed.

“Do you know who sent the letter?” asked her father quickly.

“I can make a very shrewd guess,” replied Penny. “It was our all-wise housekeeper, Mrs. Masterbrook!”