Then we were at the south entrance and Gainsay swung on his heel with a brief “Good-night.”
And it was not fifteen minutes later that I glanced through the society section of the paper that someone had left on the chart desk, and my eyes fell on a small news item:
Mrs. J. C. Allen left Tuesday of this week for New York City. She sailed on the Tuscania, Saturday night, June ninth.
On the Tuscania, Saturday, June ninth. That was yesterday. And I was positive that Gainsay had said the Tuscania.
7. The Disappearing Key and Part of an Inquest
“Yes, I saw that this morning,” said a quiet voice beside me. It was Lance O’Leary; I did not know he was near until he spoke. “Our friend Mr. Gainsay seems to be a little confused as to his dates.”
I daresay my eyes reflected a question for he added, leisurely:
“He told me that he intended to sail on the Tuscania next week. I see that he told you the same thing. He is not a very discreet young man, else he’d have known that I should look up the Tuscania’s sailing date without delay.”
I sighed; all those unpleasant little doubts of Jim Gainsay were returning in full force.
“If he has the radium, it is not in his room in the Letheny cottage,” said O’Leary meditatively.