“Could be the very man!” Mr. Holton said. “Who else might have done it?”
“A rival naturalist,” the other returned. “Name is Davis—Thomas T. Davis. Perhaps you remember, Howard. The fellow with the gold eyeglasses and scarred face. Said he got it when a tiger sprang at him. Always——”
“Yes,” Mr. Holton interrupted, his eyes bright with sudden recollection. “The museum employed him awhile, didn’t it?”
Joe’s father nodded.
“He always had a dislike for me,” he went on. “Didn’t like it at all when I headed that expedition to central Asia.”
There was a short silence. Then Mr. Lewis made a resolution.
“I’m going to put this matter in the hands of detectives,” he said. “They may be able to figure it out.”
“That’s the thing to do,” Bob agreed. “Seems to me, though, that this first man you mentioned is responsible. The one who wanted to buy the specimens from you.”
“Could be. But I am very much in doubt as to whether he would do such a thing.”
“Are you certain that there is no one else that has anything against you?” Mr. Holton questioned.