“It was. I was lucky enough to pick up the trail of two cabs outside the Parkside House. Their actions were suspicious, so I had Shrevvy follow them.”
“And one contained Ames!”
“Very probably. Its route was a throw-off. It doubled around a few blocks and then back to Central Park. The police haven’t yet supposed that a trail would go back to where it started from” - Cranston gestured to the newspaper - “so they are still trying to trace Ames to Penn Station.”
All this left Margo rather amazed and with it brought the situation back to its starting point. Where last night was concerned, Cranston had a complaint of his own, so he introduced it in timely fashion.
“Up at Farnsworth’s, recalled Cranston. “I left you there for a purpose, Margo. You were supposed to gather a detailed report regarding the treasure hunt off Skipper’s Rock.”
That threw Margo on the immediate defensive.
“Why, I did -”
“Did what?” put in Cranston. “Moon at Central Park over Farnsworth’s terrace? Maybe Reilly saw your beaming face shining down from above and blew his whistle as a matter of routine.”
Margo’s face was roundish, like the moon’s, but that was only because she was trying to glare. From her purse, she produced a notebook and planked it down hard.
“There’s the report,” she announced, “all in shorthand. Mr. Farnsworth dictated it between telephone calls. I didn’t want to be impolite, so I went out on the terrace when he talked to people. Shall I read the notes?”