There was no doubt of the deputy sheriff’s feelings in the matter, and Frank felt grateful.
“You’re a good friend, Mr. Hawkins,” said he. “If I can help any, I wish you’d tell me how.”
“You can help by goin’ to the Ophir House and turnin’ in,” laughed the deputy. “Not much can be done at night. With daybreak, though, you can climb a-straddle of Borak and report to me for orders.”
“I don’t want to go back to the hotel,” demurred Frank. “I want to stay right around here, and be Johnny-on-the-spot if anything turns up.”
Hawkins and Mr. Bradlaugh went over to the safe and gave it a critical examination.
“Good job of safe blowin’,” declared the deputy. “Some old hand did the business. Couldn’t have been Lenning.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Burke,” said Frank, grasping at this straw of hope and trying to swing it in Lenning’s favor.
“But,” went on Hawkins, “it’s not a one-man job. There was two of ’em—mebby more. Lenning was one—he must have been.”
There was the same old positiveness in convicting Lenning. Merry had heard that “it must have been Lenning” several times. Yet, blindly, the youngster still clung to the scrap of faith he still had in Lenning.
“What have you done, Burke?” Hawkins inquired, turning from his examination of the safe to face the super.