As he rode down town next morning Jimmie carried the precious old camera with the unusual flashlight picture, taken by the trap in the old house, in a case safely strapped over his shoulder.
“The way Kentucky mountaineers carry their guns,” he assured himself. “No one can take it from me.”
As a thought came to him with sudden shock he whispered, “Glass bubbles.” Then, digging deep in his pocket he brought forth the card of Dr. Amos Andre, the little old chemist who had a laboratory all his own and who was interested in heavy water.
“I’ll go and see him as soon as I can,” he told himself. “I am sure he is a man who can be trusted. He’ll be able to tell me whether there’s anything to my theory. And if there is, I’ll take it to Tom Howe.”
At that, feeling quite pleased with himself for doing the old gentleman who wanted to know all about heavy water a friendly turn, he folded the card and stowed it carefully away in a small pocket of his coin purse. There it was to remain until what John Nightingale would have called the dramatic moment, had arrived.
He was keenly disappointed to find when he reached the office that Scottie had been sent out of town on a special assignment.
“Won’t be back until late in the day,” he was told. “One of the other boys will do anything you want done.”
“Ho kay,” said Jimmie. But it was not O. K. Not by a long shot. Only Scottie should be entrusted with that precious film. So the camera still hung under his coat while he looked into other matters.
Following out a hunch that had come to him the night before, he got Tom Howe on the phone.
“Tom,” he said, “you told me about a mysterious tapping. What place was that?”