I had the satisfaction of seeing Pinky wince at that unflattering reference to his attire.
"That was Washburn's summer home!"
"Wendy Washburn's?" I demanded, with a gasp.
"Of course!" replied the Chief.
I let this sink in. Then I asked my next question.
"Then what was this crook McClone doing up at that house? And at this house, too?"
"Working a blackmail scheme for which he'll get about ten years," was the Chief's curt retort.
"Not on your life!" morosely yet vigorously interpolated Pinky, who, apparently, like so many of his kind, prided himself on nursing a working knowledge of the law.
"Then what brought this woman to this particular house to rob the wall-safe?" I inquired. And I could hear Copperhead Kate's snort of anger at my contemptuous phrase of "this woman."
"That," said Big Ben, "was what you'd call a coincidence, and nothing more. She and that jail-bird working-mate of hers got an inside tip that there was good pickings here—and she happened to sneak in when there was considerable else going on around the premises."
"Did that tip come from these two old weasels here?" I demanded, designating the two old uncles
