"And the best of it is," he chuckled, while Slim inspected the bill
carefully, "the best of it is, that I wasn't conformin' to the exact truth
when I told Mortlake that we'd spent all the other coin. I've got the best
part of it left."
"Good," grunted Slim, turning the twenty-dollar-bill over and examining
the reverse side, "that being the case--hullo!"
"What's up?" asked Joey.
For reply Slim handed the bill to Joey, pointing with a grimy first finger
at something on the reverse side.
It was an "O," scrawled in dull red ink.
"That would be an easy bill to identify," commented Palmer, uneasily,
"wonder if this can be a trap?"
"Well, keep your suspicions to yourself for a while," counseled Joey; "we
don't need to break it till we make sure."
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT HAPPENED TO ROY.
It was the next evening. Mortlake, sitting at his desk, looked up as a
quick step sounded outside. The factory was in darkness as the men had
gone home. Only a twilight dimness illuminated the little glass sanctum of
the inventor and constructor of the Mortlake Aeroplane.
"Come in," said Mortlake, as the next instant a sharp, decisive knock
sounded.
Lieut. Bradbury, in a mufti suit of gray, stepped into the office.
"Ah, good evening, lieutenant," said Mortlake, rising clumsily to his feet
and offering a chair, "I was beginning to despair of you.
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