CHAPTER IX
A MOMENT OF GRIM SILENCE
“Drew, old boy, we win!”
Tom Howe put out his hand to grip his partner’s solemnly.
It had been a stirring night. Now gray dawn was creeping up the narrow canyons that are a city’s streets.
As we have seen, they had come, quite by accident, upon Greasy Thumb and his undesirable companion. They had arrested them on suspicion. But suspicion holds no man in jail.
They had found concealed weapons upon them. But well enough they knew that in this city no man could be held for such an offense unless the arresting officer had a search warrant. They had none.
For all this, a bit of glorious good fortune had come their way. In attempting to conceal or discard a small package, Greasy Thumb’s partner had bungled. Tom Howe’s eagle eye had detected the move.
He had retrieved the package. And, of all good fortune, he had found it marked with the Air Mail’s special stamp.
As he showed it to Drew, his eyes shone.
“You wouldn’t have thought they’d keep it,” Drew whispered excitedly.