“There you are, Mr. T. Burton Potter,” remarked Chick, apostrophizing the elegant idler. “I guess you’re not likely to do it, either, now that we have got thus far on the case.”
He pushed the wad of paper back into the peephole, and let himself out of the closet to the room where Patsy was still on guard.
“Seen anybody, Patsy?”
“Not a soul. Have you?”
Chick chuckled softly, as he laid a hand on Patsy to keep him quiet.
“I’ve seen several persons, Patsy. Among them is the man the chief is so anxious to take, T. Burton Potter.”
“I wonder why the chief is so bent on getting him,” remarked Patsy as, with Chick, they tiptoed to the door of the parlor, and stood for a moment in the dark hall.
“He has a good reason, you may be sure of that.”
“I don’t doubt it, but it puzzles me, all the same. This Potter is only the ‘shover’ for the gang. He can put over phony money easier than any of the others, because he has the front. But that doesn’t explain why the chief should think he is of so much more importance than any of the others. It looks as if there must be something behind it that we don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”