“Was Gordon carrying a suit case?”
“That’s what,” nodded Henley. “The girl had her jacket over her arm. The man had an ugly look, and they seemed to be in a fuss over something, but I couldn’t hear what they said. I watched them till they turned a bend in the road, and that was the last I saw of them.”
“Gordon looked threatening, did he?”
“I sure would have thought so, Mr. Carter, if he had been looking at me,” Henley forcibly declared. “He looked fit to fight a dog.”
If Nick Carter had wanted further evidence of Henley’s complicity in the knavish game that was being played, these last statements would have convinced him of it, in view of his own discoveries and deductions. He did not betray his suspicions, but pretended to have entire confidence in the rascal, interrogating him along much the same lines until Danny brought the car to a stop at the crossroad.
Nick was the first to alight, followed by Henley and the hound, while Patsy paused to question:
“Am I to go with you, chief?”
Nick hesitated for a moment, as if he had given this matter no previous thought, and he then said abruptly:
“No, you’ll not be needed. Henley and I can look over the ground and accomplish all that can be done.”
“Sure we can,” put in Henley, with ill-concealed eagerness.