“Not so much as an initial scratched on it,” he declared.
“Some mystery,” Jim put in. “Perhaps Carlos was seen picking the wallet up and they were not taking any chances on losing the secret.”
“Yes,” Bob added. “We don’t know that it is Ollie’s.”
“That is true. We do not. In fact, we know little more than we did before we examined it. I should suggest that you retain possession of it for the present and I can make judicious inquiries as to the identity of the owner. If he were really ill, it is more than likely that he is now in the hospital, and he could not be admitted without a name. It was strange indeed that a gang of ruffians should make such an effort to secure it, unless they did not know how barren it was. Now, my good friend, I think it would be well for our young people to—as it is so aptly put in America, scrutinize their step.”
“We’ll watch our step, and our hop too,” Jim laughed.
“Yes. We are off for home in the morning so I guess there are no more Peruvian adventures for us,” Bob grinned cheerfully.
“Then, I shall tell you it is with regret that I bid you good evening, and I trust that I shall have the pleasure of meeting you again.” The Don extended his hand cordially, and both boys rather wished that they had had a chance to know him better.
“If you ever get to the bottom of this puzzle I hope you will let us know, sir.”
“I shall be delighted.” The Don took his departure, and when Senor de Castro returned to the portico the boys were still puzzling over the empty wallet.
“You will be careful,” he urged.