“That’s where they got fooled!” chuckled Fortune. “I was all wrapped up in a blanket, and they didn’t know the difference between me and my pard. Funniest thing that ever happened; only it wasn’t so blame’ funny for me while it was happenin’.”
“Clancy,” said the judge, “you had better let me take that note and keep it for you. To-morrow I’ll see that you get justice from this scoundrel, Rockwell. I owe you that, and more.”
Clancy had made a powerful friend. He realized that, and was quick to take the note from the wallet and put it in the hands of Judge Pembroke.
“I’m sorry,” went on the judge, “that you agreed to work for Rockwell and turned down my offer. I hired a driver an hour after I left you——”
Jimmie gave a hollow groan.
“And here was me, bankin’ on gettin’ that job!” he wailed. “Oh, jedge, this here is what I call blame’ tough!”
“Maybe I can do something for you,” said the judge, smiling, “or do something for Clancy so he can help you. I’ll come to the Red Star Garage to-morrow morning, at ten. Meet me there, Clancy, and we’ll see what can be done.”
“I’ll be there, judge,” answered Clancy, “and I’ll be mighty grateful for anything you can do that will help me.”
“I’ll wring that thousand dollars out of Rockwell, you may be sure of that.” The judge once more turned to Hibbard. “How did you and Long Tom get into the safe? You didn’t blow it open.”
“Worked the combination. You had the combination changed, a spell ago, and I stole the paper from your pocketbook, one day, when I had you out in the car. After I copied the number, I put the paper back in the pocketbook, and got the leather into your pocket again without your knowin’.”