“Aw, hold on, Brent. This fellow that owns the garage—his name is Joe something or other. It doesn’t matter. Well, he took me into his little office while I was waiting. We got talking together.
“He has one of those old-fashioned roll-topped desks. I was sitting in the chair that goes with it and he in another one close by.
“I happened to glance at the desk casually. Saw a newspaper on it. Picked it up like anyone will. Was a New York paper. Opened it up and for a minute or so looked through it while we talked.
“As I went to put it back again, I noticed Mr. McClintick’s picture and a small headline beneath. Just a review of the case. No new clues. Police as much in the dark as ever, it said.
“This fellow Joe, saw me looking at it and told me he never saw a picture of McClintick in the paper that he didn’t think of one night when he got the fright of his life.”
“Another ghost story, Tommy?” Brent asked. “I won’t sleep again to-night if it is.”
“Wrong again, Brent,” Tom replied. “No ghost at all. A real live person!”
“Go on, Tom!” I said.
“Joe is single. He has a little room back of the office we were sitting in, where he sleeps and eats.
“He explained to me that he is a very heavy sleeper. Consequently, he leaves a dim light in the office all night and doesn’t lock the doors. He said he never keeps much money around and what he has is always in a safe place.”