on a convict's suit of state-furnished clothes.

"But he needn't think he can prove anything against me," Fred
muttered to himself, as he started down the street. "Of course,
I know I lost that chisel last night, and Driggs may have found
it in his boatyard. But he can't prove that the chisel belongs
to me, or to our house. There are lots more chisels just like
that one. If Driggs tries to bluff me he'll find that I'm altogether
too cool for him!"

Nevertheless, it was an anxious young man who walked into the
boat builder's office a few minutes later. Hiram Driggs, smiling
broadly, held out his hand, which Fred took.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you called last night," said Driggs
affably.

"I don't know what you mean," Fred rejoined promptly. "I didn't
call at your house last night."

"Oh, no," Driggs replied. "I meant when you called here."

"I didn't call here, either."

"Ever see this before?" asked Driggs, holding up the chisel.

"Never," lied Fred.

"That's curious," said Driggs musingly. "Officer Curtis, the
man on this beat, found the chisel here, and it was wrapped up