“Uh—er—” Don stammered, “we—we expected—the—the ‘ghost!’”
“If you can prove you’ve caught him you can have my badge,” the good-natured officer chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I came in to see what was the result of your investigations. My men are all in the swamp, awaiting orders. We saw you bring in the Indians—they’re all out in the other room still, waiting for a report; your folks are, I mean.
“What have you got in the way of evidence, clues or proofs?” he asked.
They told him and showed him their bits of film.
“Wouldn’t stick in any court,” he stated. “Any finger prints are washed off long since, and the pictures could be cut from any news reel picture of airplane flights for observation purposes. No, boys——”
“We thought the ‘ghost’ would come to see what we had discovered,” Chick said lamely.
“Well, I’m not the ‘ghost.’ You’ll have to try some other scheme.”
“Don’t you think this ‘A’ and the figure ‘one’ might help?” asked Garry, indicating the smoked film, dimly showing the letters.
“It might—if there was anything to tie it up with.”
“If only we had the tracing of the Indian’s map,” Don said ruefully. “Or the blue-print Chick made—that had some sort of complicated figures on it—”