Mr. Latham marveled exceedingly.
"He tried to shake us all right when he went out," Mr. Birnes went on to explain, "but the trap was set and there was no escape."
With certain minor omissions he told of the cab ride to Sixty-seventh Street, the trip across to a downtown car, and, as a matter of convincing circumstantial detail, added the incident of the empty gripsack.
"Empty?" repeated Mr. Latham, startled. "Empty, did you say?"
"Empty as a bass drum," the detective assured him complacently. "He turned it upside down and shook it."
"Then what became of them?" demanded Mr. Latham.
"Became of what?"
"The diamonds, man—what became of the diamonds?"
"You didn't mention any diamonds to me except those five the other day," the detective reminded him coldly. "Your instructions were to find out all about this man—who he is, what he does, where he goes, and the rest. This is my preliminary report. You didn't mention diamonds."
"I didn't know he would have them," Mr. Latham exploded irascibly. "That empty gripsack, man—when he left here he carried millions—I mean a great quantity of diamonds in it."