“It does seem rather provoking.”
“And this young man, Forrester, was on the premises all the time. I suppose he was a guest, and was hidden away much after your own style.”
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
“But old Farbush was the wise fox, eh? He suspected something and probably was lying in wait.”
“I suppose so.”
“And it’s more than likely that the coveted packet immediately passed back into his hands when he confronted the pair in front of the rifled safe.”
Kenyon muttered a reply that was not intelligible. He was drawing steadily at his cigar, holding it clinched between his teeth, and frowning thoughtfully. Webster had noticed his replies being rather brief and absent for the last few minutes, and said:
“What’s the new one, Ken; you might as well tell it all. You can’t surprise me any more than you have already done.”
“I was thinking that, on the whole, I would have done a great deal better if I had waited awhile before leaving Farbush’s house.”
“But why? You might have been caught.”