“The boy, Chester Vinton, accused of having had a hand in the Rock Island robbery.”
“Why do you think I know anything of him? If I knew where he was I’d be sure and keep him long enough to find out what he knows about that robbery!”
“And the third person is the cashier of the bank where I left the packet. What did he come on board the Rambler for? Who were the men with him?”
“The cashier said he was curious to see the famous boat, didn’t he?”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Clay. “That wasn’t the reason he came on board! Honest, now, didn’t he expect to find some of the plunder taken from the warehouse on the boat?”
“I don’t know what he expected to find, I’m sure. I have never talked with him.”
“Now,” Clay went on, “you have referred to the leather bag, the one thrown on the deck of the Rambler. Who told you about the bag if the cashier didn’t? I begin to think the cashier took the bag and threw it back, or caused it to be thrown back, when he discovered that it contained nothing of value.”
“What did it contain when you first saw it?” asked the sheriff, a twinkle in his eyes. “Let us talk about that, for a time!”
“I’m going to show you,” Clay replied, half angrily, “that I can be just as secretive as you can! I don’t know anything about the leather bag!”
“Well,” the officer went on, with a puzzling expression on his face, “if you come across this boy Chet will you let me know about it?”