He had caught sight of the telephone on the table. He took a chair near it. He knew that he could not use it in any ordinary way, yet he felt that he might craftily turn it to some advantage.
He also knew, of course, nothing about the discoveries Chick had made and the theory Nick was at that moment elucidating in his business office in Madison Avenue, but he did know, at least, that any communication to their office would speedily reach one of them, if not both.
“There’s nothing for me in holding up this gang before I get wise to their game,” he reasoned, while Magill was hurriedly explaining what had occurred, which then held the entire attention of his three confederates. “I’ll wait till I get next to the whole business, and then decide what to do,” Patsy added to himself. “I can pick it up, all right, when they begin to talk with this woman. Gee whiz! but I don’t fancy that.”
Furtively watching Gridley, while Magill was stating how they had met and what had followed, Patsy detected a steadily deepening frown on Gridley’s hard-set face.[Pg 32] It smacked of incredulity, of increasing misgivings, and Patsy scented trouble.
“That infernal rascal is not going to swallow my story without something to wash it down,” he thought, a bit grimly. “I must sharpen up my wits and be ready for him, if he starts in to put me through the wringer. By Jove, I’ll have something else ready, too. I reckon I can work it undetected.”
Magill still was talking earnestly to his three confederates.
Patsy leaned nearer the table, resting one arm on it, and stealthily placed three of the books in a pile and gradually drew them close to his elbow. He accomplished this just as Magill ended his story, when Gridley replied with a doubtful growl and a side glance at Patsy:
“It strikes me, Turk, that you have taken long chances.”
“Chances?” said Magill, frowning.
“Yes. You really know nothing about him.”