The big captain roared out a laugh and said to the lawyer:
“It must have been an Emporia, Kansas, pickpocket. No Missouri dip would take his roll, extract two fifty-dollar bills, and put the rest back in his pocket.”
The lawyer appeared to get angry. “You’ve searched everybody but me.”
He turned to the hog man fiercely. “Do you want me searched?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, I want you searched. You are just the kind of a yap that gets up in the middle of the night and hides his money so carefully that he has to have a policeman find it for him in the morning. Go ahead and search him,” he said to the detective.
“All right, go ahead,” said the hog man.
The detective went through his trousers carefully, placing everything on a counter, then through his vest, then into his inner coat pocket. No money. Then, as an afterthought, just to make a good job of it, he felt in the coat pockets. In the first one was a bag of tobacco, and as he pulled a handkerchief from the last coat pocket two bills fluttered to the floor.
The lawyer stooped, picked up the two bills, looked at them, and handed them to the captain. The hog man’s eyes bulged till they looked ready to fall out of his head. He was making a dry noise down in his throat that sounded like the quack of a duck. The captain handed him the bills.
“Is this your money?” he scowled.