“One more thing,” said Jimmie. “They left their stub of a candle. Here it is.”
“Oh, that,” said John with a gesture.
“Rough on the bottom,” said Jimmie as he thrust the candle into his sweater pocket.
“What do you say we call it a day?” said John. “These night prowls get me down.”
“O. K.,” said Jimmie. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER XII
THE SILVER-FOX KING’S TREASURE
Next day two interesting people entered Jimmie’s life. One had been there before, the other was an entire stranger. Each in his own way was to play a part in unraveling the mysteries that had become a part of the boy’s every wakeful thought.
It was fairly early in the day when, sitting in the row of copy boys waiting for his call, he saw a rather strange looking old man wandering in a confused manner up and down the hall.
“Some old crank,” was Tim Dougherty’s instant comment. Tim also was a copy boy. “They’re always coming in here looking for things they can’t have. Let him go. The cop’ll pick him up.”
For a time Jimmie did “let him go.” In the end, however, a combined feeling of friendly interest and curiosity got the better of him. The man was small and gray haired. He wore thick glasses and baggy trousers. There was about him for all that an air of quiet dignity that Jimmy liked.