“Here’s the stub of a candle I found in the old house,” he said, digging once again into his pocket. “It’s rough on the bottom.”
“Let me see,” Tom turned it over. “Oh! Ah! Looks as if it might be the one used in that diamond robbery. And if it is! Then the pattern of that ash tray we took from that diamond merchant’s back room is on its bottom. And that was Tungsten Tom you were looking at, back there in that old house. Boy! But you’ve been seeing things.”
“And if it is you’ll take them in, Stumps and Tungsten? Two cases?” said Jimmie.
“No—o. Not yet,” was Tom’s slow reply.
CHAPTER XIV
THE “HAUNTED HOUSE”
That evening Jimmie’s father and mother were to be in the city with friends. It often fell to the lot of this popular Sports Editor to entertain big men of his own little world who happened to be in town. So, once again Jimmie was all set to dine with John Nightingale in the hideout.
For once, without knowing why, he wished his mother was to be home, that he might eat a delicious hot meal such as only a mother can prepare, then curl up and listen to the radio.
The weather was bad. There was a cold wind suggesting autumn. There was a threat of storm in the sky.
As he and John entered the hideout Jimmie’s eyes were greeted by a great panful of unwashed dishes, and an unswept floor.
“What we need around here,” he said soberly, “is a woman. Women keep places warm and clean while you are away. And they meet you at the door with a smile.”