“Mr. Blakeley, I want you to give me authority to employ a private detective. I have everything in perfect condition at present, and all I need is the climax, which I hope to bring about at noon to-morrow. In other words, it is necessary to arrest someone connected with this concern. If we do this, I will have plenty of witnesses, and we can have the scoundrel held for court.”
“Capital! Capital!” shouted Blakeley. “I will give you the authority to employ a detective at once. How do you propose going about it?”
“That is quite simple,” answered Herbert; “the company has a box in the post office. I have sent a decoy letter, which should be placed in the box between eleven and twelve o’clock to-morrow. They probably employ a go-between, or a messenger, who gathers up the letters and takes them to the head swindler. We must arrest this person, whoever he is, and probably with a little ingenuity we may be able to extort a confession from him, and then go after the other fellows. In the meantime I am going back to my room and will start to typewrite the story. I have it blocked out, so that we can make a full page scare out of it. We ought to have a picture of the man who comes after the letters, and then, if possible, a photograph of the head swindler, and interviews with all the victims.”
Blakeley looked at the young man with admiration written in every line of his countenance. He put out his short, pudgy hand, and slapped Herbert on the back.
“Harkins, you are all right. You’ll do. Go ahead, my boy, and I wish you luck in your undertaking.”
CHAPTER XV IN WHICH HERBERT DOES SOME VERY HARD WORK AND RECEIVES A TERRIBLE SHOCK
Herbert arose much earlier than usual the next morning, for he had a keen appreciation of the important character of the work that lay before him. He had hardly finished his breakfast when there was a ring at the door and the landlady brought up a card which bore upon its glazed surface the simple inscription “M. Short.” Herbert wondered who this could be, but directed that he be sent up to his room at once. A few minutes later he was greeting a short-set, stockily-built man, with sharp eyes and a sad expression of countenance.
“Well, Mr. Short,” said Herbert, “what can I do for you?”