“Give me one guess and see if I can name him,” spoke up Sheriff Ford, straightening up, frying-pan in hand.
“It’s yours. Who is he?” laughed Lieutenant Wingate.
“Our story-telling friend of the Red Limited, William Sylvester Holmes,” replied Ford confidently.
“You win,” chuckled Hippy. “How did you guess it?”
“I was suspicious of him all the time. At Summit my suspicions were, in a way, confirmed. He sent telegrams from there that, I now believe, informed the gang about the treasure car.”
“Was there really a treasure car on the train, Ford?” asked Tom.
“You might call it that. There was nearly three million dollars in gold on that car. Pretty good haul, eh? I reckon the authorities of this county will be glad to hear what you have to tell them. I will go to Gardner with you and we’ll have a confab with the sheriff there, if you will spare the time.”
“Sure we will,” spoke up Stacy. “We riders have to keep busy, you know.”
“It strikes me that you have been rather busy since I first met you,” returned the sheriff.
“What are your wishes, to go through to-night or wait until morning and get an early start?” he asked the two passengers.