“Ah!” cried Karl, “I thought no one knew of that?”
“Of what? What have I told?”
“I thought,” said Karl, in confusion, “dat it vas von grand secret how de young man got avay?”
“And so it was. But the secret is in my possession. Would you like to hear about it?”
“I care not’ings for him,” said Karl, coolly.
“Consider a moment. Wouldn’t you like to hear something about that New York detective?”
“Oh, if you like to tell, I listen. Go on.”
With a furtive smile Kate proceeded:
“An officer named Johnson had Carlos Conrad in charge, and at the depot they met the New York detective. He slyly put a package in the prisoner’s pocket—why do you start so?—and afterward engaged in conversation with Johnson. After some friendly words they stepped up to the bar to drink. The detective drugged his own whisky, and then, under the pretense that he had by mistake poured out the wrong liquor, induced Johnson to change with him. So Johnson drank the drugged whisky. What is the matter?”
“Nothing,” replied Karl, who with blanched face was listening intently.