“So am I!” cried Neale. “Then you did strike it rich after all?”
“No, not exactly rich, Son. I was pretty lucky, though, and I struck pay dirt in the Klondike. I wrote your Uncle Bill about it, but probably the letters miscarried. I never was much of a letter writer, anyhow. And I never knew until the other day that you were so anxious to find me. I couldn’t have left here anyhow, though, for I had to straighten out my affairs. Now everything is all right. Do you still want to arrest me?” he asked the constable.
“No,” replied Mr. Newcomb. “I reckon you’re a friend of the law and, in consequence, you’re my friend. Now come on, boys, we’ll lock up the other birds.”
Neale walked by the side of his father and it was difficult to say who talked the most. Mr. Howbridge accompanied the constable and from him learned how the raid had been planned through information sent by Mr. O’Neil.
When the party reached the houseboat, whither some of the deputies had preceded with the prisoners, the sight of a figure on the upper deck attracted the attention of Neale and the lawyer.
“Agnes!” gasped her guardian. “How did you get here?”
“On the Bluebird. I just couldn’t bear to be left behind, and so I slipped on board again after you said good-by on the dock. There wasn’t any shooting after all,” she added, as if disappointed.
“No, it was easier than I expected,” admitted the lawyer. “And, while you should not have come, this may interest you!”
“Our jewelry!” cried Agnes as she took the extended box. Quickly she looked over the contents.
“Only two little pins are missing!” she reported. “We shan’t mind the loss of them. Oh, how glad I am to get my things! And mother’s wedding ring, too! How did it happen?”