“Well, then, I’ll take a hand myself!” declared Bob.
“Now you’re talking!” cried Ned. “Detective Bob Dexter on the trail! Hurray!”
“Cut it out!” said his chum in a low voice. “There’s that hand organ grinder again!”
And, as he spoke the man with the monkey and wheezy music box came tramping along the road.
CHAPTER X
SAILOR’S KNOTS
Just why Bob Dexter didn’t want Ned to wax enthusiastic over the fact that Bob intended taking the trail after the thief who had robbed Hiram Beegle wasn’t quite clear. Perhaps it was Bob’s modesty over ever being praised for his detective work. Perhaps it was just natural caution in the presence of the strange Italian—for certainly he seemed of that nationality.
However it was, Ned desisted from his words of praise, and a silence fell over the group in the auto as the man with the organ and monkey shuffled along.
He had cast a quick glance at all in the machine, his glance lasting longest, perhaps, on the jolly face of Bill Hickey, for on that odd character’s shining countenance a smile was again visible. Bill seemed to have recovered his spirits after telling his story.
The organ man appeared inclined to stop and grind out a tune, hoping, perhaps, to charm some pennies from the pockets of those in the flivver, either by his music, of which the less said the better, or by the antics of his monkey, which was the usual small variety, attired in coat, trousers and a cap—a shameful degrading of a decent simian.