“Simpson and Henderson,” finished Tom. “Did you want to see us?”
“Indeed I do, very much! Did you receive a big chair from a dealer named Rosenkranz, a few days ago?”
“We received it to-day,” spoke Phil. “Why?”
“May I look at it?” went on the man, eagerly. “I have reason to think that it is mine, and that I have yours.”
“At last!” murmured Tom. “Once more on the trail of the mystery at last! Like a prima donna’s final-final concert. Yes, you may see the chair, and welcome.”
He opened the door of their room, and at the first glance inside, the stranger noted the chair.
“Yes, that’s mine!” he cried, eagerly.
“That’s what we thought—at first,” spoke Sid, calmly.
The stranger paid no attention to the boys now. He went over to the chair, in the bottom part of which the boards had again been fitted loosely. The man put his hand underneath, and, as he did so, the boards fell down once more.