"Not the slightest idea on the subject," he responded promptly. "I am merely hoping that in a few days I shall be in possession of a new motor from which even the Pirate will be unable to escape."
I made a gesture of surprise.
"Fact," he continued. "My experiments have proved successful at last. In a week I shall have delivered to me the new motor I have designed, and then the Pirate had better look out. Good night."
Waving an adieu, he set his car in motion, and jogged along until he reached the door of his coach-house. We watched him dismount, unlock the door, and disappear inside.
"It beats me," remarked Forrest.
"Surely you do not still harbour any suspicion concerning him?" I inquired in amazement.
Forrest made no reply. His head was bent, his brow knitted deeply, his hands clasped behind him as we turned and walked back to my place. He did not speak until we stopped on my doorstep.
"I wish he had not seen us," my companion then remarked. "He will be bound to tumble to the conclusion that we suspect him, and will be on his guard."
"Then you do still suspect him," I cried again.
"If I had one scrap of direct evidence," replied the detective, emphatically, "I would have him under arrest within half an hour. Only one little scrap," he almost groaned. "But, as it is, my reputation would not survive if I made a mistake."