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Bernstine wrinkled his smooth forehead in reflection. "Bolivia?" said he. "Now let me see." He pondered heavily for a few moments and then sighed. "You see," he explained, "we sell so many lots, from so many different places, that we can hardly keep the run of them. But our books will show," proudly; "everything we do is in our books."
Sime took the marking pencil from behind his ear and proceeded to scratch his head with its point. Mr. Bernstine watched him anxiously. But when the shipping clerk pulled open the drawer once more, the employer's face lighted up. "Ah!" said he to Pendleton. "The books! Now we'll have it."
Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton were admitted to the cell room at the City Hall without question; but a distinct surprise awaited them there. Through a private door leading from the detectives' quarters they saw the bulky form of Osborne emerge; and at his heels were Bernstine and his sandy-haired clerk. When Osborne caught sight of Ashton-Kirk he expanded into a wide smile of satisfaction.
To his employer's evident mortification, Sime shook his head. "Look in the books," suggested Mr. Bernstine with confidence. "Look in the books." "It ain't there," answered Sime. "He said he'd come back, so I didn't put it down." "Was it Christie Place?" Sime pointed at Ashton-Kirk with his pencil. "You've got it," said he. "That was it, sure enough." "And you think the man was an Italian?"
"How do you know that they are not?" "If they had read to-day's issues they would have at once connected the Italian who purchased the bayonet with the one who is said to have used it wouldn't they; especially as both Italians lived on the same street? Bernstine and Sime said nothing because they suspect nothing.
Then turning to Ashton-Kirk he asked: "How did you get onto this bayonet business?" "Just through thinking it over a little, that's all," answered the investigator. Mr. Bernstine now approached the speaker, a hurt look upon his face. "Mr. Ashton-Kirk," said he, "why did you not tell us about this piece of business? Why did you not enlighten us? How could you go away and leave us in the dark?
"Two gross rifles; one hundred gross cartridges." He closed the book, tossed it into the drawer and then slid the drawer shut. "There were a few bayonets, too. About half a dozen." With his round, fat countenance shining with admiration, Mr. Bernstine once more caught Pendleton's eye. "Just full of it," he murmured, sotto voce. "As full as he can be."
"In the morning Standard of April 9th," announced the young man, "I find an advertisement of Bernstine Brothers relative to a sale of condemned army equipment." "Is anything specified?" "They considered it important that high-power modern rifles were to be sold at a very small price. And they also lay some stress upon the fact that the stuff had been in use by the Bolivian army."
He looked down the long, table-crowded store and called loudly: "Sime!" Sime instantly put in an appearance. He was small, sandy-haired and freckled; he wore an alert expression and carried a marking pencil behind his ear. "This is our shipping and receiving clerk," said Mr. Bernstine. "He's up to everything around the place."
And, as I have said, this is fortunate, because, suspecting nothing, they will continue," with a smile, "to say nothing. If the police or reporters got this, they'd swoop down on the trail and perhaps spoil everything!" "But Bernstine or his clerk will hear of the matter sooner or later," complained Pendleton. "And the police and reporters will then get in on the thing anyhow."
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