Leaning his head back against the corner of the coupe, Stuart recited his story. Harry listened intently, while his eyes watched the road.
The fact that Stuart had been mistaken for Powell interested Harry greatly. So did the description of the old man, and the naming of Grady, the murderer.
The whole situation began to clear in Harry's mind. Stuart's bluff that he had left the papers in the hotel was the key.
Unquestionably, the old man had begun to doubt that Stuart was Powell. He had sent Grady to investigate. If Stuart had been Powell, Grady would have tried to get the papers.
Meanwhile, chancing it that Powell had not come, the old man was on watch for him, while Grady was searching at the hotel. Grady must have come in while Harry was waiting. There had been some queer ducks entering the hotel at that time. Harry recalled that Powell's manner was a give-away, when he had come down to the desk. Harry noted that Stuart Bruxton was tall and somewhat like Powell in appearance, except that he lacked Powell's rather gawkish manner.
Assuming that neither the old man nor Grady had ever seen Powell, Stuart would have answered the general description. But in the lobby, Grady must have recognized the man they were really after.
Piece by piece, Harry figured that Grady had dashed back after the murder, carrying the papers. The old man had been waiting at the bridge. He had gone back and set the house on fire.
Then Grady had helped him across the breach.
Now, Harry recalled that he had met a single car, a mile before the fork in the road. That might have been the two men of whom Stuart spoke.
Harry had left the Burnham House after he had viewed Wallace Powell's body. But he had felt shaky and uncertain. He had never dreamed that the trail of the murderer would lead directly to that spot where Powell was awaited. Grady, speeding ahead, had increased his lead.