“That will depend on what’s doing. May I act on my own judgment?”
“If sure you are right.”
“That’s good enough for me, chief. Shall I leave at once?”
“Presently.”
“By Jove, there’s one point, Nick, that I cannot get over,” insisted Chick, who had been deep in thought for several moments. “It won’t run, grapple it how I will.”
“What point is that, Chick?” Nick inquired.
“The extraordinary likeness of the thief and Clayton. I know of no man, not excluding yourself, who is so clever in the art of making up as to counterfeit a smooth-shaved, clean-cut face like that of Chester Clayton. That one point, which is inconsistent with the theory you have formed, is still in my crop. I can’t swallow it.”
“I admit the difficulty,” said Nick, smiling a bit oddly.[Pg 18] “I think there is one person, however, who could enlighten us a little on that point, if so inclined.”
“Whom do you mean?”
“Clayton’s mother—Mrs. Julia Clayton.”