“And quite rightly, too,” said Mr. Temple, warmly. The genial Secret Service man had commended himself by his actions. “I am sure,” he added, “that these boys feel anything they were able to do was owing to the accidents of fortune.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Jack.
And Frank chimed in:
“We were in great luck, sir, to be permitted to have a hand in the ending of the adventure.”
Bob nodded.
“Very good of you, boys, to take it like that,” approved Inspector Burton. “But, remember, I have no illusions about the matter. I know of what help you have been.
“At any rate,” he continued, “the capture of this gang is of the greatest importance. Smuggling of Chinese coolies into the country has been growing
alarmingly. Who would have thought the smugglers would be so bold as to operate a distributing point on Santa Cruz Island? Yet, after all, what better place could they have found? Isolated, practically uninhabited, it was admirably suited to their purpose.
“This man Folwell is a smooth crook with a tremendous reputation for elusiveness. We have never been able to obtain definite information connecting him with criminal activities. He is the head of a gang that has its ramifications not only up and down the Pacific but in the east, too, in New York.
“Through your instrumentality, we have him by the heels now, and not only him but his agents in our own official circles as well as old Wong Ho.”