The shooters went by and entered a clump of figs. They sat there a long time waiting for pigeons. The trio laying concealed in the bushes could hear the murmur of their voices occasionally. They talked in very low tones, because it is good not to make any noise when one is out hunting; but as they were not many yards little bits of conversation drifted down to Tom, whose ears were strained to catch it.
Presently they shifted their position to the butt of a big fig-tree not more than ten yards outside the scrub in which the others were concealed. Tom almost cried out when Dan Creyton said suddenly:
“Do you know, George, I’ve got an idea that there were at least two men in that business.”
“I don’t know,” replied George. “God knows I have thought the thing over and over night and day, and it is still the greatest mystery on earth to me. What makes you think that, Dan?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Dan, “when I work my theory out. I’m not going to let the matter rest, even if the police give it up. This murder case has put everything else out of their heads. It is my opinion that the murder and the robbery were carried out by the same man!”
Tom Pagdin started, and stole a glance at Jean Petit.
The look he saw on Petit’s face made his hair stand on end.
Dave was evidently engaged in trying to swallow something without making a noise. What Dave was trying to swallow is not quite certain, but it was probably a yell.
“I don’t know,” said George Chard, thoughtfully. “I cannot see anything at present to connect the two crimes.”
“Neither can the police,” resumed Dan. “But that is simply because the police, like everybody else along the river, have got a wrong theory about the robbery.”