"No harm to you, Kaplan," the Sergeant explained. "Only I picked it up out there after Moylan was killed, and discovered by some writing on the flap that it originally belonged to a friend of mine. I was curious to learn how it got into your hands."
The trader shrugged his shoulders.
"Vud it be worth a drink?" he asked cannily.
"Of course. Frank, give Kaplan whatever he wants. Now, fire away."
"Vel," and the fellow filled his glass deliberately, "It vas sold me six months before by a fellow vat had a black beard—"
"Dupont?"
"Dat vos de name ov de fellar, yes. Now I know it. I saw him here again soon. You know him?"
"By sight only; he is not the original owner, nor the man I am trying to trace. You know nothing of where he got the bag, I presume?"
"I know notting more as I tell you alreatty," rather disconsolately, as he realized that one drink was all he was going to receive.
Hamlin elbowed his way out to the street. He had learned something, but not much that was of any value. Undoubtedly the haversack had come into Dupont's possession through his wife, but this knowledge yielded no information as to the present whereabouts of Le Fevre. When the latter had separated from the woman, this old army bag was left behind, and, needing money, Dupont had disposed of it, along with other truck, seemingly of little value.