THE BLACK FOX SKIN
He paused. "Go on, Joe," cried Mrs. Rone impatiently.
"When Mr. Quaritch and I came to Val's shack we searched it. Nothing there. Why? 'Cos Val had been home all night and Sylvester could n't get in without wakin' him."
"But," said I, "was n't there a good case against Black without that?"
"Yes, there was a case, but his conviction was n't an absolute cinch. On the other hand, if the stolen skins was found hid in his shack . . . That's why you had to lie in that brush so long, Mr. Quaritch, while I went in to Lavette and spread it around that the shack had n't been searched by Evans. Sylvester was at the store and he fell into the trap right enough. We waited for him and we got him."
"O' course," continued Joe, "revenge on Val were n't Sylvester's only game. He meant robbin' Sally, too, and had his plan laid. He must 'a' first gone to Val's and stole a cartridge and the bits of necker before he robbed Sally's house. Last night he started out to leave a few cheap pelts at Val's, but he had the black fox skin separate in his pack with a bit o' tea and
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