“Not a thing. Not a blooming thing, Boss, but just sawing wood. This game was n’t started from inside. I’ll swear to that. Whoever’s been doing the trick—and it looks to me as if there’d been some expert and ree-fined blackmail going on—has been keeping clear of us.”
“Judge Dana!” exclaimed Jeremy, struck with a thought.
“Well, I’ve been sort of wondering about him myself,” admitted the other. “Met him on the street yesterday and he wanted me to call him up as soon as you got back.”
“All right. Here I am.”
“Ay-ah? You’ve got to show me. You’re not back till Doc Summerfield says you’re back.”
The door opened and the amazed physiognomy of Buddy Higman appeared. “The Boss!” he exclaimed. “Holy Moses! I’m a liar.”
“What’s up, Buddy?”
“I’ve been stallin’ off Doc Summerfield and a crazy show-foor downstairs. They’re waitin’ now. They said would you come peaceable or be took. I told ’em you’d never been near here.”
“Tell ’em I’ll come peaceably, Buddy,” said the editor wearily. He turned to Andrew Galpin. “Andy.”
“Ay-ah?”