“If you’re a friend of Hiram’s you might as well stay in and see if you can help us,” suggested Chief Duncan.
“Sure I’ll help!” said Jolly Bill. “But we don’t want too much help. Who are these lads?” and he glanced sharply at Bob and his chums.
“Friends of mine,” said the Cliffside chief, shortly.
“Oh, well, then that’s all right—friends of yours—friends of Jolly Bill Hickey. Shake!” He extended a hard palm and gave the lads grips they long remembered. “Shake, Hiram!” and he clasped hands with the stricken man, though more gently, it seemed.
“No use letting all outdoors in,” went on Jolly Bill as he stumped over and closed the outer portal, bringing thereby a chorus of protests from the curious ones assembled outside. “Now let’s spin the yarn,” he suggested. “But first has anything been done for my old messmate Hiram Beegle?”
“A doctor has been here—yes,” said Chief Drayton. “He says Hiram has had a shock. There’s a lump on his head——”
“He got that yesterday!” broke in Bob. “I picked him up right after it happened. He thinks a man named Rod Marbury did it.”
“And he did!” burst forth Jolly Bill. “A scoundrel if ever there was one—Rod Marbury! So he whanged Hiram, did he?”
“There are two lumps on Hiram’s head,” went on Chief Drayton. “We know about the first one—the one you spoke of,” he said to Bob. “But he was hit again last night. He was also either given some sort of poison that knocked him out—some sort of dope, the doctor thinks, or else it was some sort of vapor that made him unconscious. And while he was that way he was robbed.”
“But how did it all happen?” asked Bob Dexter. “How could a thief get in the strong room when he didn’t know the secret of the big brass key?”