“I hope you’ve not bitten off more than you can chew,” said Phelan inelegantly.
“I don’t think so.”
“What did Gordon say for himself?” Chick inquired.
Nick then told both what Gordon had stated, also his own reasons for the steps he had taken.
“Either he did this, or he did not,” he said forcibly in conclusion. “I feel sure he did not. Who did kill this woman, then, and with what motive? We now will try to find out.”
“Gordon’s story certainly is a plausible one,” Chick declared. “It explains his visit, his letter, and why the disguise was in his pocket. All were mystifying points, as well as seriously suspicious.”
“But think what it doesn’t explain,” argued Phelan, still doubtful. “If others killed this woman after Gordon departed, and if he went directly home, as stated, how came blood on his garments, even in his overcoat pocket, as if that gory jimmy had been carried away in it? How came the jimmy under shrubbery in Gordon’s grounds? It must be the jimmy with which the woman was killed. Where are the Madison letters, if he didn’t get them, and why——”
“Hold your horses, Phelan,” Nick interrupted, then hurriedly searching the open desk. “Don’t ask so many questions. They cannot be answered in advance of an investigation. We have only Tilly Lancey’s word for it, mind you, that a package of Madison’s letters were here, aside from the fact that some one broke into the desk. They are no longer here, at all events, for I have searched it thoroughly.”
“By Jove, this may have been a job to kill two birds with one stone,” said Chick.
“What d’ye mean?” Phelan growled.