Shadowed the tracks three miles westward. Large, deep, and ragged. Have just met a farmer who says they are not elephant-tracks. Says they are holes where he dug up saplings for shade-trees when ground was frozen last winter. Give me orders how to proceed.
DARLEY, Detective.
"Aha! a confederate of the thieves! The thing, grows warm," said the inspector.
He dictated the following telegram to Darley:
Arrest the man and force him to name his pals. Continue to follow the tracks to the Pacific, if necessary.
Chief BLUNT.
Next telegram:
CONEY POINT, PA., 8.45 A.M.
Gas office broken open here during night and three month; unpaid gas bills taken. Have got a clue and am away.
MURPHY, Detective.
"Heavens!" said the inspector; "would he eat gas bills?"
"Through ignorance--yes; but they cannot support life. At least, unassisted."
Now came this exciting telegram:
IRONVILLE, N. Y., 9.30 A.M.