Though he still had Doctor Devoll in mind as being the one whom several minor circumstances had led him to suspect, Carter did not once think of Professor Karl Graff, whom he had seen only for a couple of minutes when investigating the death of Gaston Todd, and whose appearance and deportment were in no degree impressive, to say nothing of inviting suspicion.
“Gee whiz!” Patsy exclaimed, replying. “It strikes me, chief, that that motor car is a clew worth following. We know that one of the two men at the road house killed Leary’s cat, and it’s dollars to fried rings that he is the man we want to identify. In spite of the false number plates used last night, I think I can run down that car, if I go on a still hunt for it.”
“Think you can, eh?” queried Carter tersely.
“I sure do,” said Patsy confidently.
“There are about a thousand cars of that type in Madison. You’ll do good work, Patsy, if you round up that particular one.”
“Good work is my long suit, chief,” Patsy earnestly argued. “You ought to know that.”
“So I do, Patsy.”
“Let me try, then. I’ll bet I can make good.”
“Very well,” Carter abruptly decided. “Set to work as soon as you like. In the meantime, Chick, I will see Chief Gleason and get cards for to-night. I want you to accompany me. If this master criminal, whoever he is, can put one over on us and get away with Mrs. Thurlow’s pearls, I’ll chuck my vocation and start a peanut stand.”
Nick arose from the table with the last, all having finished their breakfast, and Patsy was so eager to be off on the work he had voluntarily assumed and the outcome of which he had so confidently predicted that he hurried up to their suite in advance of the others, getting such articles as he required and leaving the house without further instructions.