Mr. Todd shook his head.
“I wasn’t looking after the boy,” he reminded his patron.
“What’s Whitcomb up to?” asked Jarvis after a silence.
His face was gray and set and his weary eyes wandered impatiently over the dusty race-track.
“Horse-racing, for one thing,” replied the detective. “He’s backing his own horse heavily; but there’s more doing than that. Do you want to hear it now?”
“No,” said Jarvis, “not here.”
Mr. Todd gathered his lips into a noiseless whistle.
“Our young friend,” he said slowly, “has appropriated about all the rope he needs. All you’ve got to do now is to let him alone.”