“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“You bet!” came the answer unhesitatingly. “Corporal, I owe you an apology. I can see now what a fool I was.” Impulsively he extended his hand.
“Now that that’s settled,” said Richardson, “I have a job for you. Do you happen to remember the messenger, who came last night?”
“Yes.”
“If you saw him again would you know him?”
“Yes,” stated Dick positively.
“How did he impress you?”
“Why, favorably, I guess.” Dick wondered what the policeman was driving at.
“That was my first impression too,” Corporal Richardson resumed, “but I have since had occasion to alter it considerably. I don’t mind telling you that I nearly made a very fatal error of judgment. That French-Canadian messenger was a fake, and he brought me a fake message, supposed to be from Inspector Cameron. I was fooled last night and permitted my man to escape. This morning a careful scrutiny of the message proved that the signature affixed was a forgery. In other words, the letter did not come from headquarters at all, although the stationery upon which it had been penned must have been stolen from the Inspector’s office.”
“What did the letter say?” Dick asked.