diff'rence between himself an' his fiddle. We was tryin' ter find
out this mornin' what he could do, an' what he wanted ter do,
when if he didn't up an' say that his father told him it didn't
make so much diff'rence WHAT he did so long as he kept hisself in
tune an' didn't strike false notes. Now, what do yer think o'
that?"

"Yes, I, know" nodded Higgins musingly. "There WAS something
queer about them, and they weren't just ordinary tramps. Did I
tell you? I overtook them last night away up on the Fairbanks
road by the Taylor place, and I gave 'em a lift. I particularly
noticed what a decent sort they were. They were clean and
quiet-spoken, and their clothes were good, even if they were
rough. Yet they didn't have any baggage but them fiddles."

"But what was that second letter you mentioned?" asked Simeon
Holly.

Higgins smiled oddly, and reached into his pocket.

"The letter? Oh, you're welcome to read the letter," he said, as
he handed over a bit of folded paper.

Simeon took it gingerly and examined it.

It was a leaf torn apparently from a note book. It was folded
three times, and bore on the outside the superscription "To whom
it may concern." The handwriting was peculiar, irregular, and not
very legible. But as near as it could be deciphered, the note ran
thus:--