Bill stared at them in amazement. “That salve sure is wonderful stuff, sir! It’s worried me all day—that they might put a crimp in my evening. But I guess I’d better wear a pair of gloves, eh?”
“Yes, cotton ones for choice.”
“I’ll drive down to the village and see if I can pick up a pair for you,” offered Osceola.
“You forget,” said Bill, “that once upon a time, I was a midshipman. White cotton gloves are part of the equipment.”
“That reminds me,” said Mr. Davis. “I had a wire early this morning in response to one I sent Washington last night. My conference today in New York was with no less a person that a member of the President’s cabinet. This is a very serious charge we’re making against a very big man—who is also a tremendous power in politics, unfortunately, although few people are aware of that fact. And when I tell you that the gentleman I met today came from the capital as the direct representative of the President of the United States and as his spokesman, you may begin to get an idea of the magnitude this winged cartwheels affair has assumed. Tonight’s reconnoiter, for it will be little more than that, must be handled with kid gloves.”
“White cotton for mine!” Bill grinned at Osceola.
“Right-o, boy!” laughed the detective. “Maybe I’m getting a little too serious. But I’ve staked my reputation on Professor Fanely’s being the person we are looking for and any slips on our part mean an end to your friend Ashton Sanborn so far as his career is concerned.”
“And whatever careers may be opening up for Bill Bolton, and Osceola, the Seminole, for that matter!” supplemented the young Chief.
“Exactly! Now I’m going to tell you this evening’s plans—and I expect implicit obedience.”
Both young fellows nodded.