CHAPTER XXII.

PLANS FOR THE NIGHT.

The two men had some hours to kill, for they could not expect anything

to happen before midnight, at least, although they realized that it

would be well to be on the scene before that.

Mrs. Simpson would in all probability retire at ten or eleven o’clock,

and as Simpson could—and probably did—approach the hill from the other

direction without coming through the village, he might appear sooner

than they expected.

Therefore, Jack Cray did not hurry himself when the time came for

him to report his findings. They walked to the end of the street and

turned, heading back toward the center of the village, while Cray

expressed his amazement at his companion’s reasoning.

That tribute having been paid, he got down to business.

“It’s amazing,” he said. “Doesn’t leave me much to boast of. I’ve got

some facts, though, and even you need facts to put under your theories.”

He went on to describe his call at the Simpson residence, and the

various things which had interested him—the new house, the misfit

furniture, the facts that Simpson himself had chosen the place, the

hasty move, the fugitive’s sudden interest in motor cars, his refusal

to use the drive from the front, and so on, until the subject of the

tire tracks was reached.

“Very interesting,” murmured Gordon. “The garage is metal, you say,

and was locked? You think, then, that the stuff is hidden there—that

Simpson bought the little, portable building for that purpose, not to

use it in the ordinary way?”

“That’s the way it strikes me,” Cray answered. “A place like that

doesn’t seem very safe for such a purpose, but nobody would think it

contained anything of any particular value. Besides, it’s far enough

from the house to make an occasional visit sufficiently safe, even in

a car—providing the car is noiseless—and the neighbors wouldn’t be

any the wiser. Mrs. Simpson wouldn’t have any interest in the garage,

because she thinks it’s empty.”

“I see. Just how do you explain these different sets of tire marks,

however? Your idea is, as I understand it, that the one set which you

found in the yard itself in front of the garage doors was made several

nights together, when Simpson brought the stuff there and unloaded it?”

“Sure.”

“Then how about the others which seemed to show that he has been there

more than once since then, but hasn’t driven the car in?”

“Those other prints are the most interesting of the whole lot to me,”

Cray returned eagerly. “It was because of them that I asked the woman

where she slept, and all that. Don’t you see? This is the way I dope

it out. He left the money the first time, and maybe, in his excitement,

he didn’t keep any back, or else he’s been spending more freely than he

expected. At any rate, it looks to me as if he wants more, or maybe the

stuff is drawing him like a magnet, and he’s coming back to gloat over

it.

“But right there, friend wife steps in and interferes without knowing

it. He thought he had everything fixed with her sleeping at the front

of the house and the garage far enough away so that she could sleep

with one eye open, if she wanted to, without hearing him. Evidently,

though, the very night after he banked the stuff in the garage, she

upset all his calculations by deciding to sleep in that back room.

Got the idea? It has three big windows right in a row, and as the

nights have been warm, she has had them all open. He must have seen

those open windows the next time he came, and evidently he guessed

what they meant. Anyhow, he got cold feet, and didn’t dare sneak up to

the garage, for fear she would hear him and get up. That’s why he has

fiddled around and gone off again, and that’s why I asked her to oblige

me by sleeping in the front room for a night or two.”

The big man chuckled.

“I suppose she thought I was crazy,” he went on, “but I can’t help

that. I wasn’t exactly in a position to shine in her eyes, but if she

does what I ask her to, and shuts those back windows, I shall be very

much disappointed if we don’t catch our man red-handed to-night.”

“You think he’ll turn up again, do you, and that if he finds the coast

clear, he’ll lose no time in getting next to the gold?”

“That’s the ticket.”

Gordon was silent for a minute or two.

“Well, I certainly hope you are right, Jack,” he said at length. “And

you must be, I think, for it isn’t likely that we would both arrive at

the same point by totally different routes unless there was something

in it. We’ll put it to the test, at any rate, and if he doesn’t show

up by two or three o’clock, we’ll burrow under one side of the garage

and see what we can find. That will make it unnecessary to tamper with

the lock, and we can fix things so he’ll never know that anybody has

entered the place. Then, after removing the stuff, if we find it, we

can watch the empty garage to-morrow night, and nab him if he puts in

an appearance.”

Cray agreed to this plan, and informed Gordon that there was a pile of

lumber within a few feet of the garage.

“We can hide behind that,” he said, “and wait for him. We’ll be in

plain sight from the back windows of the house, to be sure, and Mrs.

Simpson may spoil everything if she peeks. Let’s hope, though, that she

obeys orders and goes to bed without question.”

Snarled Identities; Or, A Desperate Tangle · 第 22 / 48 章