“What’d they do that for?” asked Ben.
“So they could tell the porter not to be intruding into the room and waking a sick man!” said Jimmie. “So they could give a good excuse for having meals sent in to the inspector.”
“Go on,” grinned Ben, “turn another page of your dream-book and see what you find there.”
“On the way across the continent,” Jimmie chuckled, “they kept the inspector under the influence of dope sixteen hours and a half out of the twenty-four. The other seven hours and a half they devoted to the third degree. You see, the spirit of the little Indian maiden which now controls me,” the boy grinned, “whispers in my ear that they offered him a good many thousand dollars if he’d quit the game.”
“Jimmie,” Ben said with a superior look, “if you keep on exercising your imagination you’re likely to bring up in the back room on the top floor of the foolish house!”
“All right!” laughed Jimmie. “You just see if they didn’t get him out of Washington in that way!”
“Suppose you look in your dream-book again,” smiled Mr. Havens, “and tell us what became of the sporty coat, the dickey and red tie, and also the slouch hat. Also the beard! The slender man wore a beard!”
“I don’t have to look in the dream-book to find that,” replied the boy. “The villains dumped the stuff into the first river they came to.”
“There’s been nothing like this since The Sign of the Four was written,” laughed Mr. Havens. “You boys would consider yourselves abused if it should be discovered that Colleton disguised himself and disappeared because he had decided, for financial reasons, not to appear against the mail-order people.”
“Sure we would!” declared Jimmie.