He could not resist that slight dig, for he knew perfectly well that Lane A. Griswold had never been guilty of making an anonymous contribution in his life. He was never satisfied unless his name could head the list.
Perhaps this baiting was unwise, but Green Eye did not think so. A little of it, he felt sure, would be good for the millionaire, and give him a wholesome fear of the supposed detective. He decided, though, to let it go at that, for the present, at least.
As for Griswold, after swallowing hard two or three times, he evidently determined to ignore the thrust.
“But how could a criminal case, delicate or otherwise, have arisen out of such a philanthropic enterprise?” Green Eye queried innocently.
If pressed, he could have given a pretty shrewd guess, but it suited his purpose just then to take another course.
“It’s simple enough—too infernally simple!” Griswold retorted feelingly. “The money has been stolen, that’s all!”
Gordon had suspected something of the sort, but it was pleasing to hear it put into words. A hundred-thousand-dollar relief fund reposing safely in some bank vault was of only theoretical interest to him, along with the hundreds of millions stored in similar vaults within a radius of a few miles of Nick Carter’s study. A hundred thousand dollars—or anywhere near that amount—in the hands of a fugitive from justice was a very different matter, however. There were possibilities in that situation.
“Ah, I’m not surprised!” Gordon remarked calmly. “How and when was the money taken? I assume you don’t know by whom?”
“But I do—I know only too well,” Griswold told him promptly.
“You do?”