"That's what comes of listening at keyholes. Go on."
"That's all, Mr. Kendrick. She was kind of worried over you callin' on her father an' give me Hail Columbia for losin' sight of you last night after she'd gone to the trouble of pointin' you out to me. But I aint no dime novel detective!"
"Why should she be interested in my movements?"
"Search me!"
"Why did those two fellows jump on you last night? Don't say they were after your watch. Tell me the truth."
"Well, you seen how they was watchin' me at the office to-day, didn't you? I've been watched like that ever since——" Stiles stopped short in some confusion.
"Ever since the theft of the satchel containing fifty thousand dollars," prompted Kendrick. "I know all about that. It's all right. Go on."
But for a moment Stiles was stricken dumb by this cool speech.
"Who told you about that?" he demanded in a scared tone. "Say, how'd it be if you told me what's your side in this little gab-fest? Who you workin' for? Police? Nickleby? Say, you aint crazy enough to think I had anything to do with the disappearance of that bunch of coin, are you?"
"Hardly," smiled Phil. He handed over Benjamin Wade's letter of introduction, "to whom it may concern." The change which perusal of these credentials wrought in Jimmy Stiles was at once noticeable. He relaxed in his chair with a breath of relief and laughed.