CHAPTER XVII. BLAKE’S VISITOR
IT was ten o’clock in the evening. Twenty-four hours had elapsed since Harry Vincent had started in pursuit of Rodney Paget. Twelve hours had gone by since the gowned inquisitor had visited his prisoner in the lonely corridor.
These events were unknown to the man who sat contentedly in Wilbur Blake’s library.
Herbert entered.
“Otto is ready, sir,” he said. “Do you wish him to take the sedan or the speedster to the station?”
“The speedster;” replied the man who looked like Blake. “Only Mister Michaels will be there. Mister Barton is bringing Mister Fanchon with him.
“But there is no hurry yet. The train doesn’t come in until eleven. Tell Otto to have the speedster in the drive. When Mister Barton and Mister Fanchon arrive, notify me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The butler did not go. He stood uneasily as though he wished to say something. His master looked at him. The eyebrows narrowed in the characteristic action of Wilbur Blake.
“What is it, Herbert?”