It was easy to find Mr. Macmillan. Everybody seemed to know him. His office was up over the bank. When we got there he was in, but at first he didn’t recognize us.

“D-don’t you remember the boys you m-met while you was f-f-fishin’ a week ago?”

“Of course,” says he. “Of course I do. Sit right down and tell me what I can do for you.”

“This is Mister Hieronymous Alphabet Bell,” says Mark. “He’s B-Binney Jenks’s uncle.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Bell,” says Mr. Macmillan. “I hope you’re well.”

Uncle answered him in poetry:
“I got my health; I got my breath,
But I’m clost to bein’ s’prised to death.”

Mr. Macmillan’s face twitched like he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. He was as polite as could be.

“What’s the cause of the surprise, Mr. Bell?”

“You tell him,” says uncle to Mark. “I hain’t got so’s I can speak yet.”

Mark told all about it, while Mr. Macmillan’s eyes got bigger and bigger and more and more astonished.

“You don’t mean to tell me you boys worked all this out just from seeing a letter, and that you outwitted those two men? It doesn’t come within the bounds of possibility.”

“Everything I s-said,” says Mark, sort of dignified, “we did.”

“I beg your pardon,” says Mr. Macmillan. “I didn’t doubt your word, of course. But it’s so remarkable. You are remarkable boys.”

I shook my head. “Mark’s a remarkable boy,” says I. “All I did was come along.”

Mr. Macmillan shook his head. “You both deserve a lot of credit. As for me, I’m proud I know you. Now let’s get down to business. What are you going to do about it all?”

“We d-d-don’t know,” says Mark. “That’s why we came to you.”

Mr. Macmillan turned and looked at his desk. For fifteen minutes he thought it over, and then he says, “I guess we better have a talk with Jiggins & Co. Can you find them?”

“I guess so,” I says. “I’ll go and see.”

I hustled right over to the hotel, and there, in the office, sat Jiggins and Collins, looking pretty glum, I can tell you. I went straight up to them.

“Mr. Macmillan wants to know if you’ll please come up to his office,” says I.

Jiggins began to sing his funny little tune. “Tum-a-diddle, dum-a-diddle, dum-a-diddle-dee,” and so on. Then he smiled sort of sickly.

“Well, Binney,” says he, “you beat, after all, didn’t you?”

“Mark Tidd comes pretty close to beatin’ every time,” I says.

“Yes,” says Jiggins, “I expect he does. Looks like he would. Wonderful boy. Knew he was wonderful all the time. Liked him. Still like him. Always will like him. No hard feelings. Not a one. Don’t hold a thing up against him.”

“That’s good,” says I, “because Mark and I don’t hold no grudge against you and Mr. Collins. You wasn’t doin’ right, but maybe that wasn’t your fault. Maybe you wasn’t taught jest proper. You’re the pleasantest villains I ever knew.”

At that both Collins and Jiggins laughed. “First time I ever thought of myself as a villain,” says Collins.

“Who’s Mr. Macmillan?” says Jiggins.

“He’s our lawyer.”

“Oh,” says Jiggins, and he laughed again, but this time it was a pale sort of laugh. “You don’t let grass grow under your feet.”

“Not when we’re fussin’ with you, Mr. Jiggins,” says I, meaning a compliment.

He took it that way, and smiled like he was pleased.

“Will you come?” I asked him.

“To be sure. Why not? Nothing else to do............