Archie looked at him in utter bewilderment. Then his face darkened.
“You fool!” he ripped out. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! Look and see. The wrappers are still around the bills.”
Scowling fiercely at Joblots, he kicked the bag with one foot.
In an instant the detective was on his knees, fumbling with the catch. Then, as it yielded, he threw back the cover and snatched up one of the packages. His face was incredulous. Tossing down the packet he picked up another, and yet another. They were all the same. Presently he arose slowly to his feet.
“By thunder!” he muttered. “Looks like there was something in it.”
Then he looked keenly at Archie.
“What were you doing around the bank in Hartford at twelve o’clock the night of the robbery?” he asked significantly.
“Coming home from a smoker,” the Yale man returned quickly.
“How about those guys you were chummy with on the train yesterday?” persisted Joblots.
“Never saw them before in my life,” McCormick smiled. “We got talking to each other in the train.”