Indiman
turned impatiently.
"Well, what is it?" he asked
"You can see for yourself, guv'nor. A mistake, ain't it?"
It was one of the thousand-dollar bills that the honest cabby was
holding up. What a phenomenon in the way of a hackman! And yet the
New York night-hawks are no fools and thousand-dollar bills are
easy to trace. Indiman gave the man fifty dollars as a reward of
virtue and he was more than satisfied. But something still remained
on his conscience thus agreeably stimulated.
"'Scuse me, guv'nor," he went on, "but here's another little job in
the same line of business. I drove a gentleman to your club early
in the evening, and he must have left it accidental in the cab.
Maybe you know him."
It was a plain white envelope bearing the typewritten address:
Mr. Orrin Chivers, Nos. 13-15 Barowsky Chambers, Seward Square, New
York.
The envelope had been opened, but the enclosure still remained in
it.
"Thank you," said Indiman. "I'll take charge of it." The cabman
touched his hat and drove away.
We went up to the library and proceeded to examine the treasure
trove. It consisted of a long strip of thin bluish paper less than
a quarter of an inch in width and containing a succession of
apparently arbitrary and unmeaning characters written in ink.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233