“We’ll plant enough evidence around the bridge to cinch his guilt with the police. Then we’ll dump him in Chicago where he’ll be picked up.”
“He’s apt to remember what happened and spill the whole story.”
“Even if he does, the police won’t believe him,” the waiter said. “They’ll figure he’s only trying to get out from under. Anyway, we’ll be in another part of the country by then.”
“What time will you pick me up here?” the watchman asked.
“Ten minutes till one. The automobile will arrive right on the tick, so synchronize your watch.”
The two men compared timepieces, and then the waiter arose.
“Let’s look at the prisoner,” he said. “Is he still out cold?”
“He was the last time I looked at him. Hasn’t moved since he was brought here, except once to ask for water.”
The watchman went across the room to a closet and opened the door. A man lay on the floor, his hands and feet loosely bound. No cloth covered his face. Peering down from above, Penny was able to discern his features, and it gave her a distinct shock as she recognized him.
The waiter prodded the prisoner with his foot. The man who was bound, groaned and muttered, but made no other sign of consciousness.