“Well, even if he did, he may have all, or nearly all, of the money left,” said Joe hopefully. “Sol Cramer, the landlord at the hotel, said that he had a big roll of bills when he paid for his week’s board. He can’t spend any of it where he is now, at any rate.”
They discussed the matter for an hour or more and then Joe insisted that Reggie ought to get to bed.
“You’ve had a long journey,” he remarked, as he rose to show his friend to his room, “and you need a good night’s rest so as to be fit when you tackle Talham Tabbs in the morning.”
[CHAPTER XI]
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
It was bright and early the next morning when the two friends sallied forth right after breakfast. The air had a tang and sting to it that sent the blood coursing swiftly through their veins, and the delicious buckwheat cakes for which Mrs. Matson was famous formed no small element in their general sense of well-being.
“Now for Talham Tabbs!” exclaimed Reggie. “I’ll bet he’ll be stumped at seeing me again. He thinks I’m hundreds of miles from here, if he thinks of me at all. I’m mighty curious to see how he’ll carry things off.”
“He seems to be an artist at carrying things off,” laughed Joe, with a sly poke in Reggie’s ribs.