“But he didn’t.” The big boy laughed hoarsely.
They stopped at a delicatessen. Here Captain Burns purchased half a baked ham, piping hot, a huge loaf of rye bread and a gallon pot of coffee.
Arrived at the shack, he spread this crude but wholesome meal out upon the table. He and Johnny drank coffee but ate little. When they had finished, save for the dishes, the board was clear.
“Spider,” the Captain said, slapping the big boy on the back, “you’re a fighter, an eater, and a climber. That’s all it takes to make a first class cop. Stick with me and I’ll make you one.”
Spider stuck. And that, as you will see, is why certain things came out as they did in the unwinding of events that were to follow.
* * * * * * * *
It was with a guilty feeling that Grace Krowl that evening began delving into the personal letters and papers taken from the thin trunk with orange stripes.
“It is as if someone were looking over my shoulder,” she told herself, “saying, ‘See here! Those are my letters! What right have you to read them?’
“And yet,” she philosophized, “if I am to help them in any way I must know something about these people.”
So she kept on reading. There were three bundles of letters and a diary. The more she read, the more deeply disgusted she became.