If I have
done wrong, I am ready to throw myself on the mercy of the court, and
be forgiven."
"You have done right," cried Dyke Barrel. "Have you opened the
satchel?"
"No. It is locked, and I haven't a key that will fit."
Harry Bernard produced several keys, none of which fitted the lock to
the satchel.
"What are we to do?" cried Bernard. The satchel is securely locked,
and its owner has the key."
"This is no time for ceremony or undue squeamishness!" uttered Dyke
Darrel. "We are on the eve of an important discovery, and I propose to
make no delays."
Then, drawing a knife from his pocket, the detective bent over the
satchel and slit the sides at one stroke."
"That will open it if a key won't," he remarked, with grim
satisfaction.
The contents of the satchel were a revelation.
Red wigs and a complete suit of clothes, besides paints and powders.
Harry uttered an exclamation.
"Just as I suspected," uttered Dyke Darrel. "You made no, mistake when
you suspected that old man who just now left this vicinity. Doubtless
he forgot his satchel, or else thought it safe until his return. Paul,
my boy, you have done a good thing, and shall be promoted. We must now
make it a point to intercept old Wiggs.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193