Henry Burns calmly opened the satchel.
But the banker sprang up from the chair in which he had seated himself, and exclaimed, excitedly:
“What do you mean—let me see it—quick!”
Henry Burns passed him the box, and with nervous fingers the banker broke the twine with which the boys had secured it. The next instant he had drawn the necklace from the box and held it up, while his hands trembled.
“They’re Alice’s diamonds, as I hope to live,” he cried, unmindful of Henry Burns’s presence for the moment. “And the rings and the brooch—everything—everything is here.”
“Why,” he exclaimed, “the best detectives in this country are working on the case, but I had already begun to despair of ever seeing the jewels again. They are exceedingly valuable, but, besides that, as they were wedding presents to my wife from me, we both prize them far beyond their real worth.
“But be seated. I shall postpone my trip out of town, you may be sure. And now let me hear the story of your discovery.”
In the calm, graphic manner characteristic of him, Henry Burns told the story of the night’s adventure.
“Splendid!” exclaimed the banker, as the boy concluded. “You have indeed acted as efficiently as the best detective could have done. We are bound to capture the robbers. Burton must know of this at once.”
He rang for an attendant, and, after writing a note, dispatched him with it. At the expiration of about half an hour the attendant returned, and ushered into the room a man of medium height, of light complexion, with steel-blue eyes, and a face that impressed Henry Burns at once as denoting great daring and coolness. The banker introduced him as Mr. Miles Burton, of a secret detective bureau.