"Don't look so unhappy," chimed in another officer. "Kansas City is a pretty good town, and we'll give you the time of your life. Theatres and picture-shows, you know. The road will probably do something handsome for you. Anyhow, you'll have good living until it is necessary to come back here to testify."
But even the prospect of going to a theatre—a treat Bob had never enjoyed while with his guardian—failed to appease him, and his usually cheerful expression gave way to one of resigned gloom.
Noting this, and desirous of restoring the boy's good spirits, an officer suggested:
"Let's go over to Kansas City. How'd you like that, Bob?"
"First rate. Then I can get my pass again." And at the prospect of regaining possession of the precious piece of paper, he grew more cheerful.
While the detectives were making ready to start, two of their fellows, who had accompanied the prisoners to the jail, rushed in, exclaiming almost at the same time:
"We've got the case clinched! One of the four has confessed!"
Just what this meant, Bob did not know, but the news seemed to please the officers so greatly that their good spirits infected him.
"How'd you work it? Where's the confession? Let's read it!" exclaimed the detectives who had remained at the station.
"One at a time," laughed the chief of the force. "The confession is here," and he tapped his coat pocket. "It bears out exactly what our friend Bob told us."