"Me? Why, next to nothing, only that he comes from down near New YorkCity at a place called Coney Island, where lots of fakirs hold out; andplenty of men too, in the summer season, who would want to circulate alittle money that did not bear the Government stamp."

"But your father seems to have known him; or at any rate believed he wasa law-abiding citizen," pursued Paul; "otherwise he would hardly havegiven him the privilege of storing his cases in his mill over night."

"0h! my portlyher is that easy-going, nearly anybody could pull the woolover his eyes. He believed the yarn this pretended professor told him,I've no doubt, and thought it next door to nothing to let him keep theboxes in the mill for a short time. You know, my portlyher is thebest-hearted man in Stanhope, barring none. But I agree with the rest ofyou that this time he must have got stung. The professor is sure a badegg. I must put my dad wise as soon as I get half a chance."

"Perhaps it's already too late to save him from getting stuck with a lotof the stuff they manufacture?" suggested Tom Betts.

"0h! that could hardly be so," Jack said in reply, cheerfully. "When thesebogus money-makers want to get rid of some of their stock they alwayshave go-betweens do the job for them. It would be too easy tracing skinnygsif they passed the stuff themselves. So I guess my dad hasn't taken inany great amount of the counterfeits."

Bobolink was down on his knees. He even crawled into one of theoverturned boxes, as though trying hard to ascertain from sundry markswhat could have been contained under that wooden cover.

He came out, shaking his head, as though his efforts had not beenattended by success.

"Looks like machinery of some kind, that's all I c'n tell," he admitted."But of course, they'd need a press of some sort to work off the papermoney on. Now, chances are, it's bein' put up right in that long shedyonder, that we c'n see. Question is, how're we goin' to get close enoughto peek through a crack, and find out what's goin' on in there?"