"We was way off," he said. "I told you I didn't dast figger out how fat it was. Look at that."
He pointed to the head lines on the first page. "SWIFT NEMESIS ON BUJANNOFF'S TRACK," they read. "MURDERED IN HIS SLEEP AFTER ROBBING HIS PARTNER."
"There you have it!" Matt cried. "He robbed his partner—robbed him like a dirty thief."
"Half a million of jewels missin'," Jim read aloud. He put the paper down and stared at Matt.
"That's what I told you," the latter said. "What in thunder do we know about jools? Half a million!—an' the best I could figger it was a hundred thousan'. Go on an' read the rest of it."
They read on silently, their heads side by side, the untouched coffee growing cold; and ever and anon one or the other burst forth with some salient printed fact.
"I'd like to seen Metzner's face when he opened the safe at the store this mornin'," Jim gloated.
"He hit the high places right away for Bujannoff's house," Matt explained. "Go on an' read."
"Was to have sailed last night at ten on the Sajoda for the South Seas—steamship delayed by extra freight——"
"That's why we caught 'm in bed," Matt interrupted. "It was just luck—like pickin' a fifty-to-one winner."