His anger against Griswold had cooled while he was speaking, however.
“But, fortunately,” he went on in a calmer tone. “We have every reason to believe that your gold is in the same hands as my papers; therefore, the trail isn’t likely to fork.”
“That’s it,” Griswold agreed eagerly. “I beg your pardon again, Carter. I didn’t realize what this loss meant to you and others. It gives you a supreme incentive, however, to go after the fellow.”
Before he could add more, the desk phone rang, and Chick answered it.
“Yes, this is Mr. Carter’s house,” the young detective said. “You are speaking from Mr. Griswold’s office? Yes, Mr. Griswold is here. Do you wish to speak to him?... All right, I understand. I’ll tell him at once. Good-by.”
The receiver clicked back into its place, and Chick turned to the expectant listeners.
“They say that the doctor has phoned from Simpson’s house, at New Pelham, Mr. Griswold,” he said. “Cray is conscious at last.”
“Good!” ejaculated Nick. “You and I will go there at once, Chick. How about you, Mr. Griswold? Will you come along?”
“Certainly,” was the prompt answer.