“I don’t think the idea is so good,” the Chief of Police stated. “Griffith Parsons has no receipt. He can’t actually prove that he paid real money, or that he paid at all. Anyway, now that his father knows the whole business, that fellow, Jenks, hasn’t a chance to collect again. He won’t dare try. Just what do you want me to do?”
“There’s this note put on the airplane, and his trying to avoid showing his handwriting by giving me two autographs,” Al suggested.
“In a way I’m sorry to destroy that clue,” said Mr. Parsons, “but when we get to the roadhouse you will see that it has no value.”
“What did you want me to do?” repeated the police official.
“We thought of facing the manager, Jenks, with Griff’s evidence of how he permits gambling to go on—and other things outside the law—and making him tell us what he knows,” Bob urged.
The man shook his head.
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” the officer chuckled as he eyed Bob, Curt and Al. “Graft—hush-money! But that isn’t it at all. As far as Griff’s information goes, we’ll take care of that better by making a raid when the place is crowded and the barn is actually in use for illicit purposes. But, don’t you see what you are doing?”
The chums shook their heads.
“I do,” said Barney, and Mr. Parsons agreed again. “If we offer to make him tell with a threat of what we will do if he refuses,—we are ‘compounding a felony’ if we get him to tell anything and don’t go through with the legal steps on the face of our evidence.”
“That’s it.”