Ashton-Kirk nodded to the soft man, and smiled.
“The Guatemala police also admired the work of your brother,” said he. “They say they never saw better.” Then without turning his head: “Scanlon!”
“Right here,” answered the big man, promptly.
“How long do you think it would take you to undo the work of Joe Evans, engraver, upon four plates, counterfeiting the notes of the Mexican Republic?”
“With a hatchet,” replied the big man, “about once second to each plate.”
The engraved steel clashed upon the floor at his feet.
“I’ll take the torch, too,” said Bat, “so’s to be sure and make a job of it.”
“Steady now,” said the detective, as his keen eye noted a movement on the part of the criminals. “And you, Mr. Shaw, keep away from that lantern. I understand the sudden extinguishing of lights is a specialty of yours.”
The light of the torch fell upon the four steel plates; Mr. Scanlon placed them face up, and with a few sharp cuts from the edge of the hatchet upon each ruined them for ever. And then, once more, they clashed upon the floor, this time at the feet of the intruders.
“There they are,” observed the big man, lazily. “Seeing that you were at so much trouble to get them I’d hate to see you go without them——”