The amateur detective was found at the corner of West Street, where he had promised to await Bill Dean's coming, and one glance at the throng which had gathered to do him honor, as he believed, filled his heart with pride.
"They're beginnin' to find out that I'm no slouch of a detective after all, hey?" he said in a confidential whisper to Bill, and the latter replied in a matter-of-fact tone:
"I ain't certain you'd have seen so many of 'em, Sam, if it hadn't been that they was all in a bunch listenin' to the news 'bout Seth Bartlett, an' after hearin' it was in good trim for anythin'."
"What's the news 'bout Seth?" Sam asked with mild curiosity.
"Why, he's goin' into the Department."
"Who? Seth Bartlett?"
"Yep. That is, it's jest 'bout the same thing. Ninety-four's men have found him a job up to headquarters where he'll have a chance to learn the business, 'cause there's what you might call a school for firemen up there."
Sam remained silent fully an instant gazing at his friend in open-mouthed astonishment, and then he said emphatically if not a trifle viciously:
"I don't b'lieve a word of it; that's one of Seth Bartlett's yarns!"
"He ain't the kind of feller that goes 'round lyin', an' it would be a chump trick for him to begin it now, 'cause if he don't flash up in that uniform by to-morrow night we'll know he's been stuffin' us."