For, from the hollow interior of his wooden leg, Jolly Bill pulled out the brass-bound box that had been so mysteriously stolen from the strong room of Hiram Beegle—the strong room which was locked in such a queer way, with the key inside and the criminal outside.
Jolly Bill held up the brass box, and smiled as he observed it.
“I guess,” he murmured, “I guess it’s about time I had another go at you, to see if I can get at what you mean. For blessed if I’ve been able to make head or tail of you yet! Not head or tail!”
And, sitting on the bed, his wooden leg beside him, Jolly Bill Hickey began fumbling with the brass box.
The eyes of Bob Dexter shone eagerly.
CHAPTER XXIII
SOLVING A PUZZLE
Many a detective, amateur or professional, having seen what Bob Dexter saw through the scratched hole in the painted transom, would have rushed in and demanded the box which held the secret of the buried treasure. But Bob knew that his case was only half completed when he discovered who had the box.
Up to within a few days ago he had suspected the mysterious and missing Rod Marbury. But with the linking up of that character with the organ grinder, and the departure of the latter with the hook-armed man, Bob had to cast some new theories.
Now he had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes, but still he was not ready to spring the trap. There were many things yet to be established.