Part 10 (1/2)

”It'll be too big for one detective then, I s'pose?”

”That's the idea, Tom. Then I'll call you in,” said Bob, with the swell of a professional.

”I wish 'twas all worked up, Bob, so you'd want to call me in now, as you call it. It'll be exciting, won't it?”

”Well, I should think it would, before we get through with it.”

”Say, Bob, will there be any fightin'?” asked Tom, eagerly. He was already excited over the prospects.

”Can't say that now--hain't got the case worked up enough to tell.

'Tain't professional to say too much about a case. None of the detectives does it, and why should I? That's what I want to know, Tom Flannery.”

”Well, you shouldn't, Bob, if the rest doesn't do it.”

”Of course not. It's no use to be a detective, unless the job is done right and professional. I believe in throwin' some style into anything like this. 'Tain't often, you know, Tom, when a feller gets a real genuine case like this one. Why, plenty er boys might make believe they had cases, but they'd be baby cases--only baby cases, Tom Flannery, when you'd compare 'em with this one--a real professional case.”

”I don't blame you for bein' proud, Bob,” said Tom, admiringly. ”I only wish I had such a case.”

”Why, you've got it now; you're on it with me, hain't you? Don't you be silly now, Tom. You'll get all you want before you get through with this case; an', when it's all published in the papers, your name will be printed with mine.”

”Gewhittaker!” exclaimed Tom; ”I didn't think of that before. Will our names really be printed, Bob?”

”Why, of course they will. Detectives' names are always printed, hain't they? You make me tired, Tom Flannery. I should think you'd know better. Don't make yourself so red.i.c.kerlous by askin' any more questions like that. But just you tend to business, and you'll get all the glory you want--professional glory, too.”

”It'll beat jumpin' off the Brooklyn Bridge, won't it?” said Tom.

”Well, if you ain't an idiot, Tom Flannery, I never saw one. To think of comparin' a detective with some fool that wants cheap notoriety like that! You just wait till you see your name in big letters in the papers along with mine. It'll be Bob Hunter and Tom Flannery.”

Tom's eyes bulged out with pride at the prospect. He had never before realized so fully his own importance.

CHAPTER IX.

BOB a.s.sUMES A DISGUISE.

At the close of business hours, Felix Mortimer sauntered up Broadway with something of an air of triumph about him. His jaw was still swollen, and doubtless pained him not a little.

Another boy pa.s.sed up Broadway at the same time, and only a little way behind Mortimer.

It was Bob Hunter, and he managed to keep the same distance between himself and young Mortimer, whom, in fact, he was ”shadowing.” Of course, Mortimer knew nothing of this. In fact, he did not know such a boy as Bob Hunter existed.

At the post office Felix Mortimer turned into Park Row. He stopped and read the bulletins at the _Mail and Express_ office. Then he bought an evening paper, and, standing on the steps of the _World_ office, looked it over hastily.

Now he moved on up Publishers' Row, pa.s.sing the _Times_, the _Tribune_, and the _Sun_ buildings, and walked along Chatham Street. Presently he emerged into the Bowery. Now he walked more rapidly than he had been doing, so that Bob had to quicken his pace to keep him in sight.

At the corner of Pell Street and the Bowery he met a young man who seemed to be waiting for him.

”I've been hanging round here for 'most half an hour,” said he, as if displeased.