Braceway said nothing.
"I believe," Bristow spoke up again, "what the fellow said tonight was true—substantially true."
"Do you?" retorted Braceway, thoroughly non-committal.
"Anyway there remains the problem of who pawned the Withers emeralds and diamonds this afternoon."
"It may not be a problem," said Braceway. "It may be that they weren't the Withers stuff at all."
"Ah! I hadn't thought of that."
They entered the hotel and sat down in the lobby, now almost deserted.
"I think," Bristow announced, careful to keep any note of triumph out of his voice, "I'll go back to Furmville in the morning." He yawned and stretched himself. "I'm about all in, weak as a kitten. What are you planning?"
Braceway's chin was thrust forward. He looked belligerent, angry.
"I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow. I intend to run down every clue I have or can find. I'm going to take up every statement he made tonight and dissect it—every point. I want all the facts—all of them."