“Wear it for seven days—and then open it!” he cried. “And this is the seventh day—or last night was the seventh night after our flight!”
Nodding, Garry produced the bag from his shirt, breaking the small cord it was attached around his neck by.
“Now, let’s see—” he began, and tore loose the wax-sealed neck.
They craned closer as he peered inside. His face dropped, then he discovered something. Eagerly he extracted from the bag three yellow oblongs of thin, printed paper.
“What in the world?” he cried.
“I’ll say!” Chick stared. “A charm to clip ghost wings. Three—free—passes—for—the—Palace—Theatre!”
The Indian youth smiled slightly.
“My father is a clever man!” he remarked.
CHAPTER XIX
A CLUE IN SMOKE
After a somewhat disappointed study of the three yellow picture theatre passes, Garry turned to the Indian youth.