“Why doubt their existence?”
“Because I’m not at all sure that those ransom letters are genuine. Anybody could demand ransom.”
“You’re not at all sure of anything, Doctor Varian,” Zizi said, “and strictly speaking, Mr Wise isn’t either. But he is sure enough to go away and stay all this time,—he’s been gone ten days now, and I know unless he was on a promising trail he would have abandoned it before this.”
And Pennington Wise was on a promising trail.
It was proving a long, slow business, but he was making progress.
His first start had been from Lawrence North’s New York office. This he found closed and locked, and no one in attendance.
Instead of bring disturbed at this, he regarded it as a step forward.
The owner of the building in which Mr North’s office was, told the detective that Mr North had gone away for the summer,—that he had said, his office would be closed until September, at least, and that there was nothing doing.
Wise persuaded him that there was a great deal doing and in the name of justice and a few other important personages he must hand over a key of that office.
At last this was done, and Wise went eagerly about the examination of Lawrence North’s books and papers.