“I hope that your notes may prove illuminating,” said the old man. “I also trust that you will find your interview with Middleton a productive one. But in view of the man’s tendency to go and come as he pleases, you should not count too much upon finding him tonight!”
With this statement, Glendenning used a tone of finality. He raised himself from his chair, moved abruptly to a corner of the room, and passed through a door that evidently led to his bedroom. Hasbrouck was alone with Larkin.
The peculiar emphasis of Glendenning’s parting words brought a new feeling of insecurity to the detective. He stared at the chair that the old man had vacated.
Why had Glendenning left so abruptly?
Hasbrouck glanced at Larkin. He wanted to quiz the secretary, but he feared that the old man might be listening.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Don Hasbrouck arose from his chair and walked toward the door. Larkin went before him. In the hallway, the detective felt more uneasy.
He had interviewed Clinton Glendenning in the past, and each time this man Larkin had been a silent witness. What did the fellow know about the secret? Could he explain the reluctance that both Glendenning and his niece had shown?
Hasbrouck knew that he would have to search for information elsewhere. He had mentioned the name of Jerry Middleton, hoping that it might bring results. And it had failed.
But Jerry Middleton himself would not fail when the detective met him tonight. Hasbrouck knew where Middleton would be. He intended to go directly to that place.
In the dim light of the lower hall, Hasbrouck found himself once more fighting the sense of impending danger — of some unknown peril that lurked in that house. Foolish, he knew, for in a moment he would be out.