“Sit down, Detective Gubb,” said Billy Getz. “Here we are safe. Here we may talk freely. And we have something big to talk to-night.”
Philo Gubb moved a chair to the table. He had to push one of the cuspidors aside to make room, and as he pushed it with his foot he saw an oblong of paper lying in it among the sand and cigar stubs. It was a Six Star whiskey label. He turned his head from it with his bird-like twist of the neck and let his eyes rest on Billy Getz.
“We know who dynamited those houses!” said Billy Getz suddenly. “Do you know Jack Harburger?”
“No,” said Philo Gubb. “I don’t know him.”
“Well, we do,” said Billy Getz. “He’s the slickest ever. He was the boss of the gang. Read this!”
He slid a sheet of note-paper across to Philo Gubb, and the detective read it slowly:—
Billy: Send me five hundred dollars quick. I’ve got to get away from here.J. H.
“And we made him our friend,” said Billy Getz resentfully. “Why, he was here the night of the dynamiting—wasn’t he, boys?”
“He sure was,” said the Kidders.