The party marched into the dining room, and in a moment or two Dick was back with the group picture he had taken the first day they arrived.
“There’s your man there,” said Dick, pointing out the impostor.
“Yes, I’m right,” said the inspector, after a hasty scrutiny. “His name is Sullivan and he’s been discharged from the service for some little time now. I’ll go down and rescue my badge and papers after awhile.”
Dinner was a merry affair, since it was in the nature of a re-union.
“Now,” said Aunt Abbie, when all had finished, “I’ll get that big dog of yours something to eat. I’ve had to keep him down in the cellar while you boys were out, else he’d have chased himself to death all over town looking for you.”
“I’ll take it to him,” volunteered Garry. He had no sooner opened the cellar door than Sandy leaped on him with a bark of delight, and the two friends, boy and dog, had almost a rough and tumble.
There was little to do for the real Simmons. He held a conference with Denton, and then proceeded to the lock-up, where Sullivan was waiting before being taken to the county jail.
Here he succeeded in getting a full confession from the impostor, who saw that since he had been caught, there was nothing to be gained by concealing anything. Knowing what he did of the service, he knew that the authorities would work relentlessly until they had searched out every fact and pinned it on him.
Simmons then wired an account of the affair briefly to his superior, stating also that complete report would be mailed. He prepared this report and then allowed the boys to read it.
They protested when they finished it, for it was largely a glowing account of their ability and bravery in doing the work they had done. Simmons, however, silenced their protests by stating that whatever they thought, that was his idea, and that was the way that the report was going.