A sly smile flickered across his lips under the cover of his beard, and, with an air of impatience, he broke in on the aimless conjectures of the three officers.
“Come, come, gentlemen,” he said; “all this amounts to nothing. And, since you seem determined to make it a case of foul play, I guess I had better start to do something on my own hook.”
“You!” The major glared at him haughtily. “What have you got to do with it?”
Schilder laughed. “The Dolliver Foundry can hardly afford, my dear sir, to have a mystery of this sort taking place on its premises without at least a show of effort on my part to clear it up. Delay, moreover, merely makes the matter look worse for us; so, although I dislike needless notoriety as much as any of the rest of you, I——” Instead of completing the sentence, he reached out for the telephone on his desk.
“What are you going to do?” demanded Appleby sharply.
“Call up the chief of police, and place the matter in his hands.”
“The chief of police!” The major gave a violent start, and glanced uneasily at his companions. Only Grail seemed unperturbed, and the side glance he cast at Schilder was distinctly skeptical. It was almost as though he said: “I dare you to make good your bluff.”
The major lost no time, however, in entering a remonstrance.
“Oh, I beg of you, Mr. Schilder,” he urged, “let us not do anything rash! There are—er—certain matters which I am loath to mention here, but which, provided the officers at the fort have sufficient time to sift them out, will, I am sure, bring a speedy solution. You bear me out in this, do you not, gentlemen?” he appealed to his two companions.
They assented, and it was noticeable that in doing so both carefully avoided looking in the direction of the adjutant.