When, at last, I did go to bed I had not made much progress in the problem of the cat, but I did believe that there was a rat in the vicinity.

I was beginning to scent one.

If I was not mistaken it called itself the Bay Shore Development Company.
I said nothing to Mother of the new proposal to buy our land, but next morning at the bank I wrote a letter to the cashier of a bank in Boston, one of our correspondents, and with which our little institution was on very friendly terms.

I asked the cashier to make some guarded inquiries concerning the Bay Shore Company, to find out, if possible, who was behind it and also to inquire concerning Barclay and Keene, the real estate brokers of Milk Street.
The reply to my letter reached me on Friday.

It was satisfactory, eminently so.