XII - THE GARAGE FIRE––––––––
“Now, watch me,” he said, and with a quick thrust of his arm down among the ferns, he drew forth a revolver, which he turned over to Burdon.
“Land o’ goodness!” exclaimed that worthy. “Howja know it was there?”
“Knew it must be—looked for it—saw it,” returned the boy, nonchalantly, and then, hearing a short, sharp whistle, he looked up at the house to see Fleming Stone regarding him from an upper window.
“Found the weapon, Fibs?” he inquired.
“Yes, Mr. Stone.”
“All right. Bring it up here, and ask Mr. Burdon to come along.”
Delighted at the summons, Burdon followed the boy’s flying feet and they went up to Stone’s rooms. A small and pleasant sitting-room had been given over to the detective, and he admitted his two visitors, then closed the door.
“Doin
