“Oh, I’ll tell you, all right, boss. On the top of that loaf now, right down the middle of the top, is a row of little black stars.”
“What!” Verbeck and Riley cried in a breath.
They rushed into the kitchen. Muggs pointed at the bread dramatically. As he had said, there was a row of the little black stars down the middle of the top of the loaf.
“This beats the deuce!” Riley exclaimed. “How did they get there?”
“I’ll swear they were not there when that loaf was wrapped,” Verbeck said.
“And I’ll swear they wasn’t there when I unwrapped it,” Muggs declared. “And now they are there! So they must have been put there while we were talking in the living room!”
“Great Scott!” Riley cried. “Do you mean to say the Black Star or one of his men has been here and did that?”
“No little bird did it!” Muggs exclaimed.
“Stand back!” Riley said. “Here is where experience takes the lead. I’ll just look into this.”
He investigated the kitchen first. None of the windows had been unfastened since they had come to the house, and dust on the sills showed that nobody had touched them. The back door had not been unlocked, for there was an abundance of fuel in the kitchen, and Muggs had not been obliged to go out for water. Riley opened the door, however, and his eyes met a drift of snow unmarred by footprints. Nobody had entered there.