"Let's have a look at his letter again."
Mr. Carter handed it over. It was written in a sprawling boyish
hand.
"DEAR MR. CARTER,
"Something's turned up that has given me a jar. Of course I may
be simply making an awful ass of myself, but I don't think so. If
my conclusions are right, that girl at Manchester was just a
plant. The whole thing was prearranged, sham packet and all, with
the object of making us think the game was up--therefore I fancy
that we must have been pretty hot on the scent.
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