“Do you know the man?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I do. I first made his acquaintance at Joliet prison, where he served a term of years for robbing a bank. Is that true or not, Jim Beckwith?”
The man known as Beckwith had already started to leave the car, but, although he heard the question, he didn't come back to answer it.
“I generally know what I'm about,” continued the detective, pointedly, “as those who are unwise enough to criticise my actions find out, sooner or later.”
The important gentleman did not reply, but covered his confusion by appearing to be absorbed in a daily paper, which he held up before his face.
“You let him off easy,” said the gentleman in the rear seat. “You allowed him to take the watch. I was surprised at that.”
“Yes; for, strange as it may seem, it was probably his, though the money with which he bought it may have been stolen. That watch has been probably sold a dozen times and recovered the same way. Were it a stolen watch, the risk would be too great. As it is I had no pretext for arresting him.”
“Was it really a ninety-dollar watch?” asked Walter, with interest.
“No. I know something about watches, as I find the knowledge useful in my official capacity. The watch would be a fair bargain at forty-five dollars, but it is showy, and would readily be taken for one worth seventy-five or even ninety dollars.”