"There's a sight that would do McBirney's eyes good," he exclaimed as he bent the rays of the light before us.
Before us, in the back of the barn, stood Warrington's stolen car—at last.
"They won't plot anything more—at least not up here," remarked
Garrick, bending over it.
In the house, we found Jim still with Forbes, who was now completely recovered. In the possession of his senses, Forbes' tongue which the anaesthetic gases seemed to have loosened, now became suddenly silent again. But he stuck doggedly to his story of kidnapping, although he would not or could not add anything to it. Who the kidnapper was he swore he did not know, except that he had known his face well, by sight, at the gambling joint.
I could make nothing of Forbes. But of one thing I was sure. Even if we had not captured the scientific gunman, we had dealt him a severe and crushing blow. Like Garrick, I had begun to look upon the escape philosophically.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE FRAME-UP
Although I felt discouraged on our return to the city, the morning following our exciting adventure at the mysterious house in the Ramapo valley, Garrick, who never let anything ruffle him long, seemed quite cheerful.
"Cheer up, Tom," he encouraged. "We are on the home stretch now."
"Perhaps—if they don't beat us to the tape," I answered disconsolately. "What are you going to do next?"