Kenleigh. It won't get you
anywhere, and it doesn't follow because the swag is gone that we can't
get it back. I know the guy that pulled this job."
"You--_what!_" Kenleigh, his face lighting up as though with a sudden
hope, stepped quickly toward the detective. "What did you say? You know
who did it!"
"Don't get excited!" advised Meighan coolly. "Sure, I know! That is,
it's a toss-up between one of two, and that's easy. We'll round 'em both
up before morning, and then I guess it won't be much of a trick to pick
the winner. They won't be looking for trouble as quick as this. We'll
get 'em, all right. It's a toss-up between Mug Garretty and the Magpie."
Kenleigh was staring incredulously at the detective.
"How do you know?" he gasped out. "I--I don't--"
"I daresay you don't." Meighan was chuckling now. "It's like this, Mr.
Kenleigh. A crook's like any one else, like an artist, say--you get to
know 'em, get to spot 'em, especially safe workers, from certain
peculiarities about their work. They can't any more help it than stop
breathing. Here, for instance, the way he--" Meighan stopped suddenly.
He had been pulling the mattress away from the front of the safe, and
now, with a sharp, exultant exclamation, he stooped quickly and picked
up a small object from the floor.
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