The fact that they had made no report for three days was not the reason. He was sure of that. The same thing had happened many times before, and there had been no protest.
It had been generally understood that he and Tom Howe were to be free lance detectives for the city.
This freedom they had welcomed. And, happy in it, they had done their best to deserve it. They had studied the city and the ways of evil doers as a factory foreman studies his plant. They had familiarized themselves with hundreds of faces. They could actually call hundreds of pickpockets, tin-horn gamblers, stick-up men and general hoodlums by name.
Not that they were friendly with them. Quite the reverse. They were constantly on their heels. Making it hard for them to do wrong. Making it easy to do right? Yes, if any sincerely wished it. But how few ever did!
“Professional criminals.” How those words had been borne in upon them. What else would such “professionals” do but rob and steal?
“And now,” Drew said aloud, bitterly, “all the months we have spent in preparing ourselves for the great task of city detectives is lost!”
“Perhaps not,” Tom said hopefully. “The Chief may put us back after a week or two.”
“Not he!” Drew’s tone carried conviction. “Did you see that look on his face?”
“Yes,” sighed Tom. “But why?”
Yes, that was the question, why?