"Say, ol' Hank's got a fine start for the Fourth," the barkeep murmured confidentially to his employer a few moments later. "When a feller begins to see ghosts, it's time to cut it out."
True to his word Elder Jones returned to the church only a short time after he had left it, and although he found the lighted lantern at the head of the gallery stairs the sexton had gone. The elder was still awaiting his return when the two officers arrived.
And, as Gizzard had expected, Dan Lannon was one of them.
The ladder was replaced and a thorough search of the steeple was made, but they were unable to find any traces of the culprits save a small size toothbrush that was found in the bell chamber.
"Why don't you cut a hole for this bellrope?" asked Dan Lannon as he attempted to replace the scuttle and found the rope hanging through the hatchway.
"There is a hole over to your left, there, about six feet," replied the elder. "Those little rascals must have pulled it out when they was up above there. But what I'd like to know is, how'd they ever git out of that there steeple!"
"They might have slid down the rope," suggested Dan.
"Never!" cried the elder. "Never! Not with Henry Morley watchin' right here in plain sight! But I reckon that somethin' happened here while I was gone! Must have or Henry wouldn't have quit his post! Probably he's out chasin' 'em now! Wait till we hear from Henry--wait till we hear from Henry."
The elder went home with menacing mutterings and noisy cane-rappings on the sidewalk; but the officers were more fortunate. They met Henry Morley on the street within fifteen minutes after they left the elder. Henry was in a very communicative mood, but the officers considered that he was more illuminated than illuminating.
"I most believe ol' Hank rung that there bell himself," allowed Dan Lannon. "I don't know as I ever saw him so lit up before."
"Likely he did," replied his brother sleuth. "More'n likely he did. When a feller gets so that he's seein' sperits floatin' round in the air, he's likely to ring anything."
Next morning when Henry Morley tendered his resignation and went to live with his daughter on a farm in the country, the officers felt that their deductions of the evening before had been amply verified.