“You ought to try to unearth some big mystery.  That would get your name in the papers.”

“I don’t want my name in the papers.  I am doing well enough.  Ain’t I on the track of those counterfeits?  What more do you want?”

“Yes, but you haven’t got them yet, blast the luck!  And you say you had the safe open?”

“I did.”

“Then why didn’t you look inside?  I should have done so.”

“I thought I’d get a better chance later on.  But when I went back hang me if I could work the combination again.”

“Have the safe makers opened the safe yet?”

“I think so, but if the counterfeits were found the local authorities haven’t said a word.  Somebody must be laying low.”

There was another pause, and then Matlock Styles brought some papers from his pocket.

“You might glance over these bloody things while you have time,” he observed.  “Perhaps they’ll give you a clue to work on.  You see, I believe in helping a detective all I can,” and he chuckled broadly.

As Adam Adams could see, the documents were of legal aspect and with them were several letters.

“Then the deal goes through,” said John Watkins.

“Doesn’t that look like it?”

“And the patent is yours?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder what Barry Langmore would say to this, if he was alive?”

“He wouldn’t like it at all.”

“Do you think you can make any money out of the patent?”

“Money?  I hope to make a fortune out of it.”

“Say, Styles, you’re a lucky dog and always were.”

“It’s because I watch my bloomin’ chances,” answered the Englishman. 
“By the way, were you at the inquest?”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“No, but you spoke to me.”

“I did?  You’re mistaken.”

“Don’t you remember the farmer who asked you for a chew of terbacker?”

“Was that you?” exclaimed Matlock Styles.  “If it was you’re improving.  The first thing you know you’ll be the real thing and getting a head position at Washington.”

“I shouldn’t mind that,” answered John Watkins.

“Where are you going to-morrow?”

“To New York—­to nose around.”

“Want to locate the counterfeits?”

“I want to see if they have been reported.  I’ve got a certain idea about them, but I am not sure if I am right.”

“What’s the idea?”

“That Langmore girl has engaged a detective named Adam Adams to clear her, if he can.  He was dodging around the house when I was there, and somehow it’s got into my head that he knows about the counterfeits.”

“Does he belong to the secret service?”

“No, he’s a private detective.  I don’t know much about him, but they say he’s a pretty good one,” continued John Watkins.

“You think he opened the safe?”

“I’m thinking that perhaps he was at the safe after I opened it.  The safe is of a make in which the combination can be changed with ease.  He could have looked into it and then have changed the numbers.  I certainly didn’t forget the old combination—­it was so easy, four on forty, three on thirty and two on twenty—­but that wouldn’t open it when I went back.”