WHEN IN DOUBT PLAY TRUMPS
PLAY TRUMPS NOW
There was only the one line to each message, and all of them were plainly in the same hand. He could make out only one thing, that someone was trying to give the sheriff information in a guarded way.
He was still puzzling over the thing when a boy came with a special delivery letter for the sheriff. Bolt glanced at it and handed the note to Curly.
“Another billy doo from my anxious friend.”
This time the sender had been in too much of a hurry to print the words. They were written in a stiff hand by some uneducated person.
The Jack of Trumps, to-day
“Mind if I keep these?” Curly asked.
“Take ’em along.”
Flandrau walked out to the grandstand at the fair grounds and sat down by himself there to think out what connection, if any, these singular warnings might have with the vanishing of Cullison or the robbery of the W. & S. He wasted three precious hours without any result. Dusk was falling before he returned.