George had no more to say, but Storm felt uneasily that his announcement had not been received quite as he had hoped it would be. To his own mind his proposed trip seemed natural enough on the face of it, but it was evident that to his conservative friend the deliberate relinquishment of a life-long sinecure was not justified by his mere desire for a change of scene. George was not proving as easy to handle, after all, as he had anticipated; and if he thought the proposed departure strange, how would the rest of their world look upon it?
But what did it matter what any of them thought? Leila’s death had been declared accidental, and that incident was closed forever, while no possible link remained to connect him with the murder of Horton. Storm told himself angrily that this utterly unwarranted apprehension showed the state his nerves were in. He must get away!
That night, obsessed with the idea, he looked up sailing dates. This was the tenth of June; if he left New York on the following Saturday, the sixteenth, he could journey by rail across the continent, allow a day or two in which to look about San Francisco and catch the Chikamatzu from that port for Yokohama. It would be a simple matter to make his way from there to the China coast when Japan palled, and from there to India, to Egypt . . . .
Six days more! He could possess his soul in patience for that brief period, and it would be none too long to enable him to put his affairs in final order. The investigation into Horton’s death and the disappearance of the money had reached the point which he had anticipated; now it would remain at a standstill until finally dropped for lack of further evidence. As far as he personally was concerned, the affair was over.
With his decision made and the date of departure fixed in his mind, all nervous misgivings fell from him, and the news of the two succeeding days contained nothing to reawaken any disquietude.
The police were noncommittal, but it was evident that they had nothing to offer in response to the clamor of the press for a report of progress in the case. The private detectives working at the behest of ‘Big Jim’ Saulsbury’s daughter and those of the Mid-Eastern Corporation were assiduously following chimerical clues. The investigation appeared to be indeed at a standstill, and Storm’s spirits soared.
He even anticipated with a certain sly amusement the dinner on Tuesday evening when the wager with Millard was to be ratified in George’s presence. Those two wiseacres, with their convention-bound souls and orthodox respect for the majesty of the law, should dine calmly within arm’s length of the money the disappearance of which they would so solemnly discuss! How he would draw them out, listen to their fatuous exposition of their theories and laugh in his sleeve at them both!
Homachi was eager to exhibit his culinary ability, and master and man planned a perfectly appointed little repast, the former with a nice discrimination as to wines. His guest must be in a mellow, receptive mood, for he meant to take this occasion to announce his imminent departure definitely; he could depend on Millard to spread the news about Greenlea, and the attitude in which he received it would indicate the spirit in which he would disseminate it.
George was the first to appear on the scene, and his good-natured face wore a little, worried frown as he shook hands.
“I heard downtown today that you had closed out your account at the bank, Norman,” he began. “You are not actually preparing to go away, are you?”