“That’s why we are now on our way out to the black shack by the edge of the swamp. I think we’ll find some proof out there.”
They were on the train speeding southward toward the marsh.
“If Knobs wasn’t in with old hook-nose, why were they together in that dive where I came near getting bumped off?” asked Pant.
“Doubtless they were acquainted. Men of the same trade, even if it’s of a criminal nature, usually are. Birds of a feather, you know. It may be, too, that Knobs was encouraging this other man. If the fires set by him could keep the eyes of the police and inspectors off Knobs, then he would have easy going.
“His big game, though, was the diamond shop. It looked easy. To plant all those chemicals beneath his safe, to set a fire, then beat it with the diamonds, leaving everyone to believe they were lost, seemed simple enough. It would have been, too, if it hadn’t been my luck to hit him behind the ear. Got that picture?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes.”
Pant took a small snapshot from his pocket and handed it to Johnny.
“Pretty good, even if it was taken under difficult circumstances,” he said, holding it up to the light.
It was a picture of a large man wearing a mask and holding a silver cream pitcher in his hand. It was the picture he and Mazie had taken at the booth just before the fire started.
“Mask sort of spoils it, but I think they’ll recognize that stoop.”