“It would have been more of a pity if they had been left in your pocket,” answered the detective. “They might have meant a five years’ stretch for you in a Federal prison.”
“That’s immaterial,” laughed Lampton. “I expect to be taken in sooner or later, if I stay in the game. It’s only a question of time. Now, what do you want me for?”
“I want those papers you took out of Howard Milmarsh’s trunk in Maple, for the first thing.”
“Go on,” said Lampton, smoking comfortably. “What next?”
“You are to go on with that trick you have arranged with Louden Powers, to beat Howard Milmarsh out of his fortune. You got the idea while you were in the Northwest, the night we chased you through the window.”
“I didn’t know it was you who did it,” snarled Lampton, frowning for the first time. “What do you know about Louden Powers and me?”
“Everything!” was the quick reply. “You were to see him to-night, at eleven o’clock. You’ll keep that appointment, and, if you are wise, you won’t tell him that you saw me this evening. Now, where is Potter?”
“I don’t know! Curse him!”
There could be no doubt of the sincerity with which Andrew Lampton uttered this malediction. Carter was sure the fellow did not know what had become of the man who seemed to be as slippery as a greased pig.