CHAPTER XII.
THE HUSTLING REPORTER.
Nick smiled at the simplicity of the young man.
“Dumond has a reputation for keeping his mouth shut,” he said, “and that is the reason he has built up such a profitable business. Go to him to-morrow with this suit, trade-mark and all, and he will swear that the trade-mark is a forgery, and that he never saw the clothes before.”
“Do you think the woman came to America in quest of these diamonds?” asked Maynard.
Nick did not reply immediately. He was examining a comb and brush which lay upon a dresser at the head of the bed.
“Look here,” he finally said, turning to Maynard with the brush and comb in his hand, “the woman could not resist the temptation to primp before the mirror. And she left hairs in the brush and the comb.”
Maynard took the brush into his hand.
“What do you see there?” asked Nick.
“Not black hairs, certainly. Short red hairs.”