Hollings was near the door when he went in and had evidently been waiting for him.
"Birdie is securely in his cage!" announced he, dropping his voice so that the thrilling tidings might not be overheard by customers close at hand.
"What?" gasped Christopher.
"Yes, he's bagged for fair! Your father is delighted. They're all upstairs waiting for you—Corrigan, Davis, and all. We're to go down to headquarters and identify the chap."
"Then it really was Stuart!"
"Sure thing!" Hollings was actually trembling with joy. "Oh, I hope they'll find those diamonds on him! At least, they'll probably be able to make him tell where they are. If we can only get that ring back, I shall die happy."
"So you were right after all, Christopher," McPhearson put in.
"Apparently!"
The cry, "I told you so!" rose like a wave to the lad's lips and then as speedily receded. Why should he feel triumphant? Mistakes are always possible, and he might have been mistaken. Fortunately this time he had not been, that was all.
"I'm glad!" the clockmaker declared.