"It's in my eyes, down my throat, everywhere!" said Hickey helplessly.
They got him out of the building and down by the pond where he plunged his head gratefully into the cooling waters. Then they slapped the dust from him and rubbed the cobwebs out of his hair, until he begged for mercy.
"Never mind, Hickey," said Macnooder helpfully, "just think of Tabby when he comes in to-morrow."
Fortified by this delicious thought, Hickey submitted to being cleaned. Then Macnooder examined him carefully, saying:
"There mustn't be the slightest clue; if there is a button missing you'll have to go back for it." Suddenly he stopped. "Hickey, there's one gone—off the left sleeve."
"I lost that scrapping with the Egghead last week," explained Hickey, "and both of the left suspender ones are gone, too."
"Honest?"
"I swear it."
"There's been many a murder tracked down," said Macnooder impressively, "on just a little button."
"Gee! Doc," said Legs in chilled admiration, "say, what a bully criminal you would make."