“I don’t look as though I was here of my own free will, do I?” the chauffeur replied, with an ugly leer.
“I heard some one in the house,” explained Larry, “and went down to the dining room. Some one was just coming through the window, and I waited for him at the door leading from the den into the dining room. When I grabbed him, he proved to be Clancy, there.”
“Clancy!” exclaimed the judge. “Is it possible that——”
“No, dad, it isn’t possible that he’s one of the thieves. He came to warn us about the robbery, but got to the house a little too late. He saved me from getting nipped by a bullet—upset me just as one of the robbers pulled a trigger; after that, he joined in the chase and downed Hibbard single-handed. Clancy has proved a good friend of ours this night.”
“Who was the fellow that got away with the money?” inquired the judge.
“Tom Long,” spoke up Clancy, “the fellow they call Chantay Seeche Tom.”
“He’s equal to a thing like this! I can easily believe that he had a hand in it. I’m out five thousand dollars, but——”
“Jedge, you ain’t out a cent! I happened to grab the bag in the yard, and I ran off with it like a streak o’ greased lightnin’. James Montague Fortune has done somethin’, at last, that didn’t have a bobble in it! Whoop!”
All eyes turned toward the broad doorway that led from the drawing-room into the hall. Fortune stood there, striking an attitude, and holding high a small canvas bag. His face wore a broad and complacent grin.
“Well, here’s luck!” exclaimed Larry Pembroke. “Clancy and his friend have saved the day for us, after all!”