There was no such building in Chicago.
“Do you remember the orang-outang, carved out of marble, that they’ve got over the door of the Guggenheimer Building?” Nick went on.
“You bet. Seen it a hundred times.”
“Gosh!” exclaimed Nick. “It seems like meeting old friends to run across a man who remembers that orang-outang.”
At the end of the five miles there was a little town called Herkimer, and here the party stopped for breakfast.
When they got down from the machine and went into the hotel, they took their satchels with them.
Nick got outside of his meal and returned to the Red Spider several minutes before the rest of the party had finished and left the table.
The detective knew very well that Chick and Patsy wouldn’t bring their machine up to the place while the Red Spider was in evidence, but he wanted some assurance that his assistants were following.
He got what he wanted, for Patsy appeared in the road, back at a point where it made a turn in the woods, and gave his hat a wave.
Patsy then disappeared, and Nick felt much easier in his mind.