“Yes, one or the other of us,” returned Craig, in a tone which Haddon could not hear.
In the meantime we took occasion to make some inquiries of our own about Haddon and Loraine Keith. They were evidently well known in the select circle in which they travelled. Haddon had many curious characteristics, chief of which to interest Kennedy was his speed mania. Time and again he had been arrested for exceeding the speed limit in taxicabs and in a car of his own, often in the past with Loraine Keith, but lately alone.
It was toward the close of the afternoon that Carton called up hurriedly. As Kennedy hung up the receiver, I read on his face that something had gone wrong.
“Haddon has disappeared,” he announced, “mysteriously and suddenly, without leaving so much as a clue. It seems that he found in his office a package exactly like that which was sent to Carton earlier in the day. He didn’t wait to say anything about it, but left. Carton is bringing it over here.”
Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, Carton himself deposited the package on the laboratory table with an air of relief. We looked eagerly. It was addressed to Haddon at the Mayfair in the same disguised handwriting and was done up in precisely the same fashion.
“Lots of bombs are just scare bombs,” observed Craig. “But you never can tell.”
Again Kennedy had started to dissect.
“Ah,” he went on, “this is the real thing, though, only a little different from the other. A dry battery gives a spark when the lid is slipped back. See, the explosive is in a steel pipe. Sliding the lid off is supposed to explode it. Why, there is enough explosive in this to have silenced a dozen Haddons.”
“Do you think he could have been kidnapped or murdered?” I asked. “What is this, anyhow—gang-war?”
“Or perhaps bribed?” suggested Carton.