“I’m not guaranteeing that,” replied Cardona cautiously. “I’ve seen too many crazy killers to believe everything a man like Middleton might say. Perhaps he was an accomplice. One thing is certain. He wasn’t the actual killer!”
CARDONA had begun his statement in a guarded tone. His last words were spoken with positiveness. The detective leaned close to the chair where Clyde was sitting.
“Burke,” he said confidingly, “I could have told those fellows plenty. I’m telling you, because I’m going to let you stick along with me. Not a line for your paper until I say the word. Then you can blow the works.
“Within an hour, I’ll have the man who murdered Charles Blefken!”
Clyde Burke had not expected this startling announcement. The reporter had played a hunch. He had hoped to learn some hidden angle of the lawyer’s death. Instead, he had uncovered a gold mine of hot news.
Clyde knew Cardona well. Not for an instant did he doubt the detective’s statement. Joe Cardona never counted his game until it was as good as in the bag.
“Take a look at this,” said Cardona quietly.
He opened the envelope. From it he drew a folded strip of cloth. He unrolled it. The cloth had been torn from the inside of a man’s coat. At the top was a section of a label, bearing the inscription:
HELMSF Tai New
“Make anything of that?” quizzed the detective.