A few minutes after the new day had begun Hemingway came out of the cupboard.
"You may as well close up, Drowan," the plain clothes man decided.
"The fellow who calls himself Tripps isn't going to show up.
If he had been going to claim his box he'd have been here before this." "You think he got scared away ?" asked the night manager.
"The fellow was probably keeping watch on this office.

He saw what happened, and decided not to run his neck into a noose.
You'll never have any word from Tripps." "Isn't it just barely possible," hinted one of the clerks, "that the man wanted the stuff for some legitimate purpose ?" "A man who knows how to use nitroglycerine," retorted Hemingway, gruffly, "also knows that it's against the law to ship nitroglycerine unlabeled.

He also knows that it's against the law for an express company to transport the stuff on a car that is part of a passenger train.

So this fellow who calls himself Tripps is a crook.

We haven't caught him, but we've stopped him from using his 'soup' the way he had intended to use it." "Wonder what he did want to do with it ?" mused Dick Prescott.
"There are any one of twenty ways in which the fellow might have used the stuff criminally," replied the plain clothes man.