"
Garry crowded his way into the group: "Which Mr. Gilbert?--not
Charley M., the--"
"Yes; Sam's just left him. What did he tell you, Sam?"
"Just what you've said--I hear, too, that he has got to stop on
his house out in Jersey. Can't finish it and can't pay for what's
been done."
Garry gave a low whistle and looked at Jack.
"That's rough. Mr. Morris drew the plan of Gilbert's house
himself. I worked on the details."
"Rough!" burst out the first speaker. "I should say it was--might
as well have burglared his safe. They have been working up this
game for months, so Charley told me. Then they gave out that the
lode had petered out and they threw it overboard and everybody
with it. They said they tried to find Charley to post him, but he
was out of town."
"Who tried?" asked Jack, with renewed interest, edging his way
close to the group. It was just as well to know the sheep from the
goats, if he was to spend the remainder of his life in the Street.
"That's what we want to know. Thought you might have heard.
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