"
Garrick had continued his examination of the floor. In a corner,
near the back, he had picked up an empty shell of a cartridge. He
held it down in the light of the car, and examined it long and
carefully. As he turned it over and over he seemed to be carefully
considering it. Finally, he dropped it carefully into his inside
vest pocket, as though it were a rare treasure.
"As I said at the start," quoted Garrick, turning to me, "we might
get a conviction merely on these cartridges. Anyhow, our man has
escaped from here. You can be sure that he won't come back--
perhaps never--certainly not at least for a long time, until he
figures that this thing has completely blown over."
"I'm going to keep my eye on the place, just the same," stoutly
insisted Dillon.
"Of course, by all means," reiterated Garrick. "The fact is, I
expect our next important clew will come from this place. The only
thing I want you to be careful of, Dillon, is not to be hasty and
make an arrest."
"Not make an arrest?" queried Dillon, who still felt the fumes in
his throat, and evidently longed to make someone pay the price--at
least by giving him the satisfaction of conducting a "third
degree" down at headquarters.
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