“I think I know who the man is at this very minute,” was Phil Forrest’s startling announcement, uttered in a quiet, even tone.
Mr. Sparling leaped from his chair so suddenly that he overturned the table in front of him, sending his papers flying all over the place.
CHAPTER XXI.
AN ELEPHANT IN JAIL
“Who is he?”
“I would not care to answer that question just now, Mr. Sparling,” answered Phil calmly. “It would not be right—that is, not until I am sure about it.”
“Tell me, or get out.”
“Remember, Mr. Sparling, it is a serious accusation you ask me to make against a man on proof that you would say was not worth anything. It may take some time, but before I get through I’m going either to fasten the act on someone—on a particular one—or else prove that I am wholly mistaken.”
The showman stormed, but Phil was obdurate. He refused to give the slightest intimation as to whom he suspected.
“Am I to go, Mr. Sparling?” he asked after the interview had come to an end.
“No! I expect you’ll own this show yet.”