“Yes, the bricks that took the place of money. They’re my next clew. I’ll begin work on them. There’s no use chasing after that fellow,” and he nodded in the direction taken by the rude chap. “Though if I see him in the subway again I’ll make him behave. I suppose, Miss Mason, there is no other way of tracing the man who bought this valise?” he asked, after a pause.
“No, it was a cash sale, and he did not give his name. If I could only give you a better description of him!”
“Well, perhaps it wouldn’t help much,” said Larry. “I’m sure I’m much obliged to you for what you did. Now I’ll go back to the bricks. Anyhow, I’ve got a good story out of it. I don’t suppose you want your picture in the paper, as the girl who sold the million-dollar valise.”
“Would it help you any?” she asked.
“Indeed it would!” exclaimed Larry fervently.
“Then you may have it, though I don’t like publicity,” she replied. “But I haven’t one here.”
“I’ll call at your house for it,” said Larry quickly, and thus he got her address.
Larry wrote a good article, and of course secured a “beat” out of the valise story. It was run with Miss Mason’s picture, and made quite a sensation, being copied by the other less fortunate papers.
But now, indeed, Larry seemed “at the end of his rope.” The valise clew had ended in a blind lead, for naturally it was out of the question to seek a man with a black beard, and with no other description to go by.
Still, Larry looked over all the men employed by the bank that had been robbed. None of them had black beards, and he was farther off from the trail than ever. But he did settle one important point, and that was the knowledge that the man who had acted so rudely in the subway was a messenger employed by the Consolidated National.