The man took him through a door into another room, the Chief's private office. From this Hugh guessed that Tip was about to be questioned at length, in the hope of his possibly implicating still a third party in the theft.
"So you found his secret cache, did you, Chief?" remarked Thad boldly. "When Owen Dugdale left us he said he was going straight to you, to tell about meeting Tip on the road smoking a cigarette; and he showed us that it bore the same trademark as those stolen from Paul Kramer's place."
Thad went into detail so as to let the tall Chief understand they already knew all about the discovery, and had been told, in fact, even before he was.
"Yes, we took a hunt up there in the woods this morning," explained the other, with a broad smile; "and ran across some tracks that looked like Tip's. When we followed the trail it led us direct to a big tree that was hollow; and inside the cavity lay that bundle, wrapped in a burlap sack. It was almost too easy. An experienced crook would never have committed such a blunder, and left so plain a trail. Why, it looked as if we were being taken by the hand and led there."
"But I guess you didn't carry away the stuff right then, did you,
Chief?" Thad went on to say, a wise look on his face.
"Hardly, son, hardly," replied the other, with a gesture of his hands. "That would have been too silly for anything. What we did was to back away, and cover our own footprints as well as we could. Then we hid to await developments. I left my man up there while I came back to town to conduct my business. Later in the day I once more joined him. I expected the boy might be getting hungry for a smoke about the same time Owen met him on the road. Well, he came, and we pounced down on him just when he had opened the pack, and was lighting a weed with his trembling, tobacco-stained fingers; because, just like Leon Disney, and that slick Nick Lang, Tip is a confirmed cigarette fiend, you know."
"Well, for one, Nick has cut the habit out, Chief, I happen to know, for he told me so," Hugh ventured to say.
The big police officer sneered, as though he refused to believe there could any good come out of the boy who bore that detested name of Nick Lang. During the whole of the time he occupied his present exalted position, Chief Wambold had been plagued by the pranks of Nick and his cronies; and, in spite of all his efforts, up to now he had been unable to fasten anything serious upon them, although he gave them credit for every piece of maliciousness practiced in Scranton during that period.
"Well, perhaps some people may believe Nick didn't have a hand in this outrage," he went on to say, "but I'll never think otherwise than that it was his genius for organizing raids that was responsible for the robbery. At the least, he may have changed his mind, seeing things getting too warm in police circles here. But never forget to keep one eye open when dealing with such a slippery customer, for his repentance is only skin-deep at the best."
Hugh made no reply. He knew it would have been utterly useless, because the Chief was not only a very stubborn man, but inclined to be a narrow-minded one in the bargain. So he and Thad walked out. The last they heard the officer call after them was: