“It’s Tracey, all right!”
“But who’d have thought that sleek pussy cat was mixed up in this? Aren’t you surprised, Bill?”
“Not very. When his car had the breakdown this morning I began to suspect. The whole thing was too darn opportune. He was part of their system of watchers, of course. Probably wanted to find out how we’d taken their warning.”
“But surely Mr. Holloway can have nothing to do with it! He’s such a sweet old man.”
Billy transferred two revolvers from Tracey’s belt to his own.
“If you want my candid opinion,” he said, “Old Holloway is the leader and brains of the gang. Only it’s going to be the dickens and all to prove it in a court of law.”
Dorothy stared at him incredulously. “Why, Bill—are you sure?”
“Why not? He’s just a double-dealer, that’s all. That wise old bird is certain to have a flock of cast iron alibis up his sleeve. He must have made more than enough money out of this diamond smuggling to keep Tracey’s mouth shut—and the mouths of any others who may be corralled.”
“I’ve got a hunch,” said Dorothy.
“Let’s have it.”