"What I don't see is how they caught Roddy on such an old game. He's
easy, but I didn't s'pose he was that easy."

"To do him justice, he isn't--quite. They put it up on him rather
cleverly. In the period of waiting to hear from the geographical expert
I've put in some fairly hard work, going over your son's effects. And,
in the room over Silent Charley's bar, I found a newspaper with this in
it."

He handed to Doctor Hoff a thin clipping, marked "Daily Saw, March 29":

LOST--Spanish letter and map.
Of no value except to owner, Return
to No. 16, this office, and receive
heartfelt thanks.

"Well," said Doctor Hoff, after reading it over twice, "that don't tell
me nothing."

"No? Yet it's pretty plain. The two crooks 'planted' the letter and map
on your son. Probably slipped them into a pocket of his coat while he
was drunk. Then they inserted their little ad, waited until he had
time to find the letter, and casually called the advertisement to his
attention. The rest would be easy. But I'll have something to say to my
clerk, who failed to clip that ad."

"You're workin' for me, now," half blustered, half whined the old quack.
"Whatche goin' to do next?"

"Pack for the night train."

"Where to?"

"Yuma or Calexico. Don't know which till I get a reply to two telegrams.
I'll need five hundred dollars expense money."

"Say, you don't want much, do ye?" snarled the quack, his avaricious
soul in revolt at the prospect of immediate outlay. "When I hire a man I
expect him to pay his own expenses and send me the bill."

"Quite so," agreed the other blandly. "But, you see, you aren't hiring
me. I'm doing this on spec. And I don't propose to invest anything in
a dubious proposition, myself. It isn't too late to call it off, you
know."

"No, I do' wanta do that," said the other with contorted face. "I'll get
the five hundred here for' you in an hour."

"And about the five thousand dollars reward? I think I'd better have a
word of writing on that."

"You mean you don't trust me?" snapped the other. "I'm good for five
million dollars to-morrow in this town."

"I know you are--in writing," agreed the other equably. "That's why I
want your valued signature. You see, to be quite frank, I haven't the
fullest confidence in gentlemen in your line of business."

"I'll have my lawyer draw up a form of contract and mail it after you
to-morrow," promised the quack with a crafty look.

"No, you wo--" b