When it came to him, it came suddenly. His face went white.
“My God!” he whispered, clutching the picture. “The thing around that kid’s neck is the locket Molly Kent wears!”
From staring at the picture he turned to the sleeping Tony. He even started to arouse him, but thought better of it.
“No,” he said to himself. “I’ll keep this secret. This is a clew!”
He tried to argue that the child in the picture bore some resemblance to Kent’s daughter; but he could not convince himself.
“This picture might be a boy’s, for all that,” he muttered. “Looks somethin’ like the dead man, too.”
He gave up puzzling his brain over it, and kicking off his boots, made ready for bed. The locket in the picture and the one Molly wore were the same. That was enough. How she came by it, he’d try to learn tomorrow. Maybe old Jackson had bought it for her.
Jackson Kent! That started a new line of thought. Johnny became wide awake. Kent had fired him; the old man had seemed deaf to certain facts; and now this locket of Molly’s! A broad-side struck Johnny Dice.
“My God!” he exclaimed loud enough to wake up his pal. “Is that why he shut me up? Did Jackson Kent kill that man?”