"You lads," said Tomlinson, "are probably wondering about those pearls. You see, I am a wholesale jeweler, in Denver, and rare gems like those are directly in my line. They're from the Gulf of California, and were picked up by a La Paz Mexican, who brought them into Yuma. Hearing that I was in Yuma, the Mexican came to me and offered the pearls for sale. I bought them at a bargain. I asked you to say nothing about the pearls in Ash Fork, because, if it were known I had such valuable property about me, some one might lay a plan to hold us up. That's what happened the other side of Ash Fork, and it was an experience I don't care to have repeated."
"It's hardly safe to carry such valuable property around with you in this part of the country, Mr. Tomlinson," remarked Matt.
"No one knows that better than I do," the other answered, "hence my desire to keep the matter quiet."
"Why didn't you send the pearls to Denver by express, after you got them in Yuma?" asked Matt.
The question seemed to surprise Tomlinson.
"I was careless, I suppose," he answered, after a brief pause.
"Anyhow," went on Matt, "after your narrow escape on the road to Ash Fork, I should think you would have got the pearls into the hands of the express company as soon as you could."
"I pay you a hundred a month to look after this car," said Tomlinson sharply, "and not to offer suggestions as to how I run my business."
Carl rolled his eyes at Matt, and a slow grin worked its way over his fat face. Matt himself felt like grinning, for he was putting these questions for a purpose. Tomlinson's answers were hardly calculated to allay any suspicions that might be forming in Matt's mind.
At that time the Red Flier had dipped into a piece of road that skirted the foot of a mountain. According to the road-map, the course circled around the uplift to a point on the opposite side.