"I see by this report," taking up the papers Mr. Damsel had left, "that you have given a very close and full description of his appearance, but that amounts to little. Disguises are easy, and the mere changing of clothing will effect a great difference."
"I am positive, from his features, that he was a hard drinker. He had been drinking before he came to the car, as I smelled it on his breath."
"Well, Mr. Fotheringham, I will not detain you any longer. If you are innocent, you know you have nothing to fear."
"Except the disgrace of being arrested."
"Possibly," said Mr. Pinkerton, shortly, and bowing his visitor out, he pondered long and deeply over the case; but he felt he was groping in the dark, for the robber had apparently left no trace behind him. He had appeared on the scene, done his work, and the dark shadows of the night had swallowed him up, and Mr. Pinkerton, for the time, was completely baffled.
"If he would only write that letter," he muttered, "and I believe he will—"
A tap at the door followed these words, and two men entered—both
Pinkerton detectives.
One of them carried a bundle in his arms.
As Mr. Pinkerton caught sight of it, his face lightened up.
"Ah! You did get it?"