“I can get a car and a fresh driver for him,” remarked Burke. “Perhaps he could doze off during the ride. How would that do?”
“It will have to do,” decided Kennedy. “Get the car.”
We went back up-stairs by the way of the kitchen to avoid suspicion, and while Burke hunted up a car and driver Kennedy found Watkins and gave him detailed instructions about what he wanted.
“I calculate that it will take him at least four hours to go and get back,” remarked Kennedy, a few minutes later. “There isn’t anything we can do yet. I think we had better get a little rest, for I anticipate a strenuous time to-morrow.”
We passed through the lobby. There was Sanchez, talking to the night clerk.
“I was down on the dock in front of the Casino when the explosion came,” we could hear him telling the clerk. “Yes, sir, it’s a wonder any of them were saved.”
“What did you think of that?” queried Burke, in the elevator. “A crude attempt at an alibi?”
Kennedy shrugged non-committally.
“I think I’ll have Riley watch him until he goes to bed,” continued the Secret Service man. “I can telephone down from the room. No one is listening now, at least.”
“By all means,” agreed Craig.