"Well, I think so too. Then he simply corrupted Ferguson and wormed the whole thing out of him. Pretty clever, the whole thing, wasn't it? How much Ferguson may really know, or suspect, I have no idea. Of course, there is only one thing to fear now, and that is scareheads in the New York papers to-morrow—attempted kidnapping foiled, and so on. It would break Uncle Elbert's heart if anything of that sort should come out—"
"Don't you worry. It won't. I'll close his trap—tight."
Once more Varney was slightly annoyed by Peter's presence.
"If we find him," he began, as they came to the square, "you—"
"We must try not to be brutal, Larry," warned Peter soberly. "I remind myself that he is an elderly man—"
"If we find him," began Varney again, "you will please remember that he belongs to me. Higginson is strictly my pickings."
Peter grunted, looking rather annoyed too.
They crossed the square, two determined-looking men, and entered the Palace Hotel. Behind the desk a bored clerk sat paring his nails with a pair of office scissors. He looked up with a certain resentfulness.
"Excuse my interruption," said Varney. "Is Mr. Higginson in?"
The clerk's glance lowered tiredly. "Naw. Left town on the four-seven."