In a brief time the two lads, none the worse apparently for their immersion, had been hauled on board the Algonquin, and were being plied with eager questions.
“I guess I caught on to that boom more by instinct than anything else,” explained Tubby, “when I got the water out of my lungs I looked about me and saw that Hiram had grabbed it too.”
“That’s what I call luck,” said one of the detectives in a wondering tone.
“It surely was,” agreed Hiram, “but I guess there’s a bigger bit coming.”
“What do you mean?” asked the major, struck by something odd in the lad’s tone.
For answer Tubby thrust a hand into an inside pocket of his coat and drew forth something that, dripping with water as it was, could be easily recognized as—the missing pocket-book!
Tubby drew forth the missing pocket-book.
“I guess they forgot to search me for it in the excitement following the collapse of the roof. I’m sorry it got wet, major,” he added.
But the major and the others could only regard the fat boy with wondering eyes. Suddenly the major, the first to recover his senses, spoke: