You can bet he's our man. He wouldn't
be hanging around a burg like this for months unless he had a blamed
good reason for keeping out of sight."
"He's been in mighty bad health,--and, if anybody should ask you,
there ain't a healthier place in the world than right here in--"
"It's healthier than most jails," admitted the other with a chuckle.
"Umph!" grunted Mr. Foss, delivering without words a full and
graphic opinion on the subject of humour as it exists in the minds
of people who live in large cities. He chewed for a time in silence.
"What became of the woman and the other man?"
"Oh, they were sent up,--I don't know for how long. They're old hands.
Husband and wife. Steamship gamblers before the war. Fleeced any
number of suckers. She must be a peach, judging from the pictures
I've seen of her. They probably would have got away with this last
job if she and Ritchie hadn't tried to put something over on friend
husband. She had the can all ready to tie to him when he got wise
and laid for her lover with a gun. The revenue people had been
tipped off by agents in Paris and traced the couple to the hotel.
They sprung the trap too soon, however, and the second man got
away."
"Well, I guess there ain't any question but what this feller here
is old Silas Thane's grandson. They say he's the livin' image of
old Silas. So he must have sailed under a false name.
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