“He’s in it, all right, sir,” was the reply.
“In the hamper?”
“That’s what.”
“Was it empty?”
“Not a thing in it, sir.”
“Close quarters for him, weren’t they?”
“Rather,” laughed the officer. “But he fixed the clasps so he can get out whenever he likes, and he’ll not fare so badly. What’s the job, Mr. Carter?”
“If all works well, officer, you may learn by reading to-morrow morning’s newspapers,” Chick pointedly rejoined, as he turned to go. “I cannot wait to inform you, for I now have work of my own elsewhere.”
He was thinking of Badger’s place, and of what might befall the dauntless young detective then speeding out there in the hazardous manner described.
Ten minutes later, however, with a revolver in each hip pocket, Chick also was on his way to Brookline.