“Yes, sir, that was Otto Lindholm,” the watchman answered Sloane’s irascible query. “He remarked to me that he was called away sudden for a few days.”
“I am not interested in his remarks! He shall be dismissed for this!” Sloane strode off angrily, without taking further notice of the two who had followed him, and Dennis plucked McCarty’s sleeve.
“We’ve lost him!” he exclaimed disconsolately. “That wife of his may not have been so dumb, after all, if she’s ’phoned and put him wise!”
“Let be!” McCarty cautioned: “Bill, did Lindholm say where he was going? He must have been called away mighty quick, for we had a kind of a date with him.”
“He didn’t say, but he looked more glum than usual; seemed in a hurry, too.” Bill turned and then waited as they did not advance.
“Well, it’s no matter, anyway. We were to pick up the inspector but I guess he’s gone on downtown. We’ll be beating it ourselves, Denny.”
Outside the gates once more, Dennis observed:
“Likely the woman’s gone, too, and it’s near six. I’ll have to be getting back to the fire-house to report, but you’ll let me know if you locate them? No matter when or how he contrived to dose Hughes with that poison it must have been Lindholm, for his skipping out proves it! To think of them two dumb-bells, the man and the woman, being at the bottom of it!”
McCarty shook his head.
“’Twas not a crime of brawn, Denny, but of brains, and I’m thinking the one clever enough to plan it would be too farseeing to run away before he’d real reason. I’ll drop ’round to-morrow morning if there’s any news.”