“Nothing doing, Nick, except these tracks of an automobile which evidently stood here for some little time last evening,” said Chick, pointing to the ground near the curbing. “These drippings of oil show that it remained here for some time. It would have been out of view by the woman living opposite the vacant dwelling, and it may be that the Mexican and his companion came here in it.”
“Very possible,” said Nick. “The tire marks indicate that it was a touring car. It’s about ten to one that the gang which fled this way departed in it.”
“You speak as if you thought that there was more than one gang,” said Chick, with a look of surprise.
“That is precisely what I think.”
“For what reason?”
“Several,” said Nick. “Circumstances indicate, to begin with, that the house was obtained from the broker, Gibson, only in order to turn a knavish trick on some one. Naturally, if that is true, we must infer that the Mexican was to be the victim of the job.”
“Surely, since he was brought there and evidently had come from a distance, possibly all the way from Mexico,” said Chick.
“The evidence in the house shows plainly, however, that four or five men were there, possibly more,” Nick continued. “A less number could not have put up such a fight, nor have caused so much destruction, in the brief time in which it must have occurred.”
“I agree with you.”
“It is obvious, too, that the Mexican could not have licked half a dozen men single-handed, surely not such desperate men as Connie Taggart and Batty Lang.”