Storm struck his forehead sharply with his clenched fist. What was the matter with him to-day? Why couldn’t he control his treacherous, wandering thoughts? This last unnerving vision had been Millard’s fault, curse him! Well, he was through with Millard, just as he was through with Langhorne and all the crew here and at the club! They were out of his path from this moment on! Only George remained to be tolerated a while longer for discretion’s sake——
Then the thought recurred to him of George’s telephoned query to Millard. What on earth did he care about the papers that were found in the bag? Horton had been a mere acquaintance of his of years gone by; why should he take such a profound interest in the murder?
Could old George have begun to suspect the truth after all? During the long evening in his rooms on the previous night nothing had been discussed save the proposed fishing trip, and at its end they had not definitely decided where to go; but George had seemed full of plans and as carefree and eager as a boy for the anticipated outing. Could this have been all a blind?
He remembered, too, how George had evaded comment on Colonel Walker’s disclosure. Storm had concluded then that the whole thing had gone miles over George’s head; but what if it had struck home? What if he were mulling the affair over in secret in his slow, plodding mind, correlating the facts he had learned, fitting them in with his theory?
But the most important link of all, the keystone upon which any structure of circumstantial evidence against Storm could have been built in the other’s thoughts, was the one thing which had assuredly escaped his notice: the fact that the newspapers with which they had packed the trunk had been incomplete, and the significance of the dates. Amid the turmoil of Storm’s own brain that loomed as a clear conviction beyond all doubt, and once more his fears subsided and confidence was reborn.
George had expounded his theory as far as it went, and it pointed merely to some unknown friend of Horton’s, some presumable associate of his later years. Pah! Let George play upon that string until it broke; let him spend the rest of the summer trying to ferret out Horton’s immediate past and round up the latter’s acquaintances, if he had become such a “bug” about the case as Millard had asserted! Let them both work themselves into a fine frenzy over the missing sheets of the “Bulletin,” memorize the dates, hang about Headquarters, make asses of themselves generally!
Once and for all, he was done with weak misgivings and unwarranted fears! They would never learn the truth; no one would ever know it. It was locked in the breast of the one man in the world who had the genius to conceive such a brilliant, sublimely simple coup, the courage to carry it out and the patience and strategy to await the assured outcome. What had he to do with these lesser minds and their quibbling and straw-splitting?
A bit of current slang came whimsically to his mind, and Storm smiled as he slammed down his desk and reached for his hat. He had put this stunt over; now let them all come!
Chapter XXIV.
If George Knew
After a hasty and solitary lunch Storm returned to his office, and forcing all other thoughts aside he devoted himself throughout the long afternoon to getting his books and files in order to hand over to Sherwood the next day. He had always been as methodical as a machine in the affairs of the trust company, and his task itself was not difficult, although he found it no easy matter to concentrate, and his head ached dully.