"Perhaps," he suggested slowly, "perhaps he had a scar on his face?"
Haney returned the gaze dully for an instant, then suddenly he nodded his head.
"Yes, a scar," he said.
"From here?" Mr. Birnes placed one finger on the point of his chin and drew it across his right jaw.
"Yes, a scar—that's it;" the prisoner acquiesced, "from his chin almost around to his ear."
Mr. Birnes came to his feet, while the official police stared. The chief sat down again and crossed his fat legs.
"Why, what do you know, Birnes?" he queried.
"I know the man, Chief," the detective burst out confidently. "I'd gamble my head on it. I knew it! I knew it!" he told himself. Again he faced the tramp: "Haney, do you know how much the diamonds you had were worth?"
"Must 'a' been three or four hundred dollars."
"Something like fifty thousand dollars," Mr. Birnes informed him impressively; "and if you got fifty thousand dollars for your share the other man got a million."