“I am sorry, gentlemen,” replied a third voice. “But the offices are closed. No one can go in until after an investigation.”
“By whose orders are they closed?” asked the man who had mentioned the thousand dollars.
“By the orders of the United States postal authorities,” was the answer. “A fraud order has been issued against Skem & Skim, and there is a warrant for their arrest on a charge of using the mails to swindle. They skipped out just before we got here this morning.”
“Can’t we get our money?” inquired half a dozen anxious ones.
“I’m afraid not,” was the reply from a small but determined looking man who stood before the door. “My assistant and I have charge of the offices. As soon as we can learn anything definite we will let you know.”
“Did they both get away?” asked some one of the postoffice inspector, for such the man in charge was.
“Yes, both Skem and Skim.”
“Their names ought to be Scheme and Skin,” said a man in a corner. “They skinned me out of three hundred dollars.”
“Any chance of getting ’em?” was the next inquiry of the inspector.
“We hope so. We are also looking for a young fellow who is supposed to hold two hundred shares of this wild-cat oil stock in the Mt. Olive well. As far as we can learn he is the only stockholder outside of Skem & Skim, and of course he’s liable if there’s any money in the concern. He may have a lot of the cash, which the firm got on other deals, salted away somewhere. He’s the one we want as badly as we do the other two. A young chap too, but as slick as they make ’em I’m told, even if he is a stranger here.”