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The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy Wells," he said sharply. "Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change the size of a man's nose."
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one," said the tall man. "You've been under arrest for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have come over our way and telegraphs us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here's a note I was asked to hand to you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Policeman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed to him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was short.
Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar, I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.
