“We’re a good way yet from cracking the shell of the mystery,” said he. “If this is really the ground plan of a house at the corner of Second and Cerro Gordo, why did Hibbard draw it and show it to Chantay Seeche? That’s the mystery, Jimmie, and we haven’t begun to solve it.”
Fortune’s face went blank.
“That’s you! I missed the p’int, and no mistake. But Hibbard and Chantay wasn’t considerin’ that plan for any good purpose, believe me. There’s a hen on, and trouble’s hatchin’. How we goin’ to find out what’s in the wind?”
“I believe I’ll go over on Washington Street, and see if I can find out anything. You stay here, Jimmie. Get in bed and go to sleep, if you want to.”
“Don’t go out by the front, pard,” begged Fortune.
“I’ll go out the way you came in.”
“Suppose somebody wants you for somethin’ while you’re gone? I might help out, but, not bein’ on good terms with the boss o’ this establishment, I reckon I hadn’t better try.”
“No,” said Clancy, “don’t try. We’ll take chances, and hope the night man won’t call on me for anything. Anyhow, I’ll not be gone long. Crawl into the blankets and go to sleep. The bed’s big enough for two, and I’ll make use of my half of it when I get back.”
Fortune had already kicked off his boots and removed his flannel shirt. He was out of his trousers in a jiffy and had rolled up head and ears in a blanket.
“Buenas noches, pard!” came in muffled tones from the depths of the blanket.