“Good Lord!” The colt reporter whistled softly. “What do you make of it, Klein?”
“I intend making a lot of it, a little later on,” responded Klein. “At least, I hope so. At present there is just one little gap to bridge. However, don’t you forget your part in the drama.”
“There isn’t a chance in the world of my going up in the air now,” Tod replied, in a confident voice. “So, whenever you’re ready to ring down the curtain, go ahead; I’ll be in the picture.”
With this they parted, Tod hurrying back to the dance that was just starting, while Klein, avoiding Miss Lydecker, who seemed puzzled because he refused to join in the festivities, went out of the door, and stood for a time in the friendly shadows of the wide porch.
A sudden bustle among the dancers, following a waltz, told him that they were about going in for supper.
“My cue at last,” he murmured to himself, thrilling a bit at the thought of the scene that was to come. “All the guests will be in the dining room now.”
Swiftly he crossed the porch, gained the footbridge that led to Eagle’s Nest, traveled its length, found the bundle he had previously examined, took it, and went into the summerhouse. He remained there for all of five minutes, and when he emerged he was wearing a long raincoat. He came back over the bridge, gained the shadow of the house, and was on the point of entering, when he stopped short. Hurrying around the corner, and coming to a halt within a few yards of where Klein had paused, came the detective, Jarge.
At the same moment a window, just above his head, opened and something flashed in the moonlight. Jarge’s hand went out. It was all done before Klein could fully realize the meaning. Then swiftly it dawned upon him. He had expected it, but not at this moment.
Now, instantly alive to the situation, despite the fact that the scenes were being juggled, Klein stepped forward. Until that time Jarge had not seen him. At the first sound, however, the detective whirled.
“Well?” he snapped, taken off guard, his voice far from a natural one.