"If he wasn't lame, he was a good actor," declared Innis.
"That's it—he really was lame!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "It wasn't put on at all, and I knew then that he was permanently disabled, and that it wasn't from the jar of suddenly leaping out of a car."
"How could you tell that?" asked Paul.
"By his shoes. You know how a shoe will get full of wrinkles if it's walked in in a certain way for any length of time. A lame person's shoe will get wrinkles in it that no other person's would. It was that way with this man. When he limped I could see certain wrinkles on the side of his shoe, and the wrinkles had been there for some time, showing he had been lame longer than since to-day."
"Good boy!" cried Paul.
"Then I was sure I had him," resumed Dick, "and it was only a question of time when he would make a break."
"And he was playing all that time to get possession of those papers?" asked Innis.
"That's what," answered Dick, "only he got the wrong bunch. I guess I'll have to charge my road maps up to Uncle Ezra if this keeps up."
"But how did he know you were coming along the road where he disabled his car?" asked Innis. "And how could he figure out that you'd give him a lift?"