That was why the proprietor of the Bulletin presented such a battered appearance when he joined the Camera Chap in the cell at police headquarters.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DUBIOUS PROSPECTS.
“The Chronicle office blown up!” exclaimed Hawley, staring at his cellmate in horrified astonishment. “Who could have done it, Fred?”
“I don’t know who did it,” the proprietor of the Bulletin answered, with a scowl, applying his handkerchief to the deep cut in his scalp which Chief Hodgins had inflicted with the butt of his revolver. “I only know that I didn’t have anything to do with the outrage.”
“Of course you didn’t, old man,” said the Camera Chap soothingly. “I know you too well to believe you capable of anything like that. What grounds have they for trying to put it up to you?”
Carroll laughed grimly. “Oh, they claim to have plenty of evidence—enough to send me to the chair, if old Gale dies. Hodgins told me that the box in which the infernal machine was inclosed has been identified as a box which was previously in my possession. He claims, too, that they have the wrapper of the package, and that the address is in my handwriting. If they can prove these things, they’ve got a strong case against me.”
“If they can prove them!” exclaimed Hawley, with a confident laugh. “But of course there’s no danger of that. The whole thing is a palpable frame-up.”
“There’s no doubt about its being a frame-up,” said Carroll; “but I’m not so sure that it’s palpable. Hodgins is an expert at manufacturing evidence, and if he’s careful not to make any breaks, he’ll probably be able to convince a jury that he’s got the goods on me. You see, Frank, there’s the question of motive to be considered. I’m afraid they’ve got me there.”
“Motive?” the Camera Chap repeated, with an interrogative inflection.
“Certainly. Everybody in Oldham is aware of the enmity which existed between myself and the Gales. Isn’t it only natural that I should be the first person suspected of sending that infernal machine?”