What a satire on my profession! And yet, absurd and improbable as it seemed, it was not impossible. Indeed, did not this theory account for their seemingly aimless sojourn here?
Jim Long was not the man to perpetrate a causeless jest. Neither was he one to form a hasty conclusion, or to make an assertion without a motive.
Whether his statement were true or false, what had been his reason for confiding it to Mr. Holtz? It was not because of any especial friendship for, or attachment to, that gentleman. Jim had no intimates, and had he chosen such, Mr. Holtz, gossipping, idle, stingy, and shallow of brain, would scarcely have been the man.
Why, then, had he confided in the man?
Did he wish the report to circulate, and himself remain unknown as its author? Was there some individual whose ears he wished it to reach through the talkative landlord?
I paused in my reflections, half startled by a sudden thought.
Had this shrewd, incomprehensible Yankee guessed my secret? And was Mr. Holtz's story intended for me?
I arose to my feet, having formed a sudden resolution.
I would know the truth concerning Jim Long. I would prove him my friend or my enemy, and the story told by Mr. Holtz should be my weapon of attack.
As for Blake and Dimber, if they were figuring as dummy detectives, who had instigated their masquerade?