"He did disguise the whole letter, but he forgot now and then. They always do. It's mighty hard, Barlow says, to keep up the disguise all through. They're sure to slip up, and return to their natural formation of the letters here and there."
"I suppose that's so. Shall I confront Bannard with this?"
"If you like. You're in charge. At least, I'm in with you. I don't want to run counter to your ideas in any way."
"Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I appreciate the justice and courtesy of your attitude toward me, and I thank you for it."
"But it don't extend to that boy—that cub of yours!"
"Terence?" Fleming Stone laughed. "All right, I'll tell him to keep out of your way. He'll not bother you, Mr. Hughes."
"Thank you, sir. Shall I go over to the jail with you?"
"No, I'd rather go alone. But as to this theory of yours. You blame Bannard for all the details of this thing? Do you think he kidnapped Miss Clyde last Sunday?"
"I think it was his doing. Of course, the two people who carried her off were merely tools of the master mind. Bannard could have directed them as well as anybody else."
"He could, surely. Now, here's another thing—I want to trace the house where Miss Clyde was taken. Seems to me that would help a lot."