"The penitentiary isn't more than thirty miles away from here, is it?" asked Frank.
"Whew! what ever would you be wanting to know from there?" the officer remarked.
"Please call them up and ask whether that man you captured a year ago, up in the Powell woods, is still doing time there."
"You mean Jules Garrone, do you?" asked Chief Waller.
"That's the man."
Still looking at Frank as though wondering what he could mean by such a strange request, the other started operations, and after some skirmishing managed to get in touch with some one who might possibly be the warder of the State penitentiary.
"Yes, this is Chief Waller of Bloomsbury," Frank heard him say. "How are you, sir? I would like you to give me a little information connected with a man I had the pleasure of railroading over your way a year ago. His name was Jules Garrone, and he was convicted of having broken into the jewelry establishment of Leffingwell—what's that, sir?" And Frank, watching closely, could see the lips of the Chief pursing up, as though he might be tempted to whistle while listening to something the party at the other end of the wire was telling him.
Then, perhaps a minute or so later, the Chief turned around to Frank, as he once more hung up the receiver.
"Look here, Frank," he said, exhibiting signs of excitement now, "how did you ever come to know or suspect that?" he demanded.
"You have told me nothing yet, Chief," Frank remarked, calmly. "But I judge from the way you acted that you heard some surprising news from the warden at the penitentiary. What about Jules, sir?"