trousers, and one out of every ten men you meet, limps."

The other detective, who had all this time been silent, now laid some
Adams Express letter-heads on the table. On these were written "J. B.
Barrett," in all forms of chirography--several sheets were covered with
the name.

"Where did you get these?"

"Out of Fotheringham's trunk, in his room."

"By Jove, what a consummate actor that man is. Do you know, boys, up to
this minute, I firmly believed that messenger was innocent--I have been
sold like an ordinary fool," and Mr. Pinkerton looked at the tell-tale
papers admiringly, for, although he felt a trifle chagrined at being
taken in so nicely, he could not but pay tribute to the man who did it,
for the man that could get the better of "Billy" Pinkerton, must be one
of extraordinary ability.

"If you please," said Chip, "I do not see that the mere finding of this
paper in Fotheringham's trunk should fasten suspicion on him. If he was
shrewd enough to capture the money, he would certainly not leave such
damaging evidence as this paper would be. It seems to me that it would
be a very plausible theory to advance, that the real robbers placed this
in his trunk to direct suspicion against him. In fact, it was the first
thing to be seen when the lid was lifted, for I was with Barney when he
searched the room."

Barney said nothing to his companion's remarks, but nodded his head to
show that he acquiesced.