"We got the tip from your man Wiggins."
"Oh! Wiggins, eh? Wait a minute."
Jim heard a buzzer and then the voice of a clerk, "Yes, sir."
"Send Wiggins in to me immediately," ordered the superintendent. There was an interval of silence and then further conversation.
"Oh, Wiggins. Have you seen that man Gollop around lately? If so where is he now?"
"Why—why—I thought he was—thought he came this way, sir," stammered Wiggins with an embarassment that was palpable to the listening Jimmy.
"You thought? Mr. Wiggins, I'm afraid that some day thinking too much will be the death of you! What time does Mr. Gollop show up in the morning?"
"He's usually here when I come, sir," replied the perturbed and conscience-stricken Wiggins.
"Well, to-morrow morning when he comes send him in to me, but—Wiggins! Don't say a word what I want him for. You can go now."
A door banged, and Jimmy heard the superintendent's voice assume a highly confidential tone.