“Yes, we need not detain you any longer, I think,” Green Eye assured him.
Three minutes later Griswold was gone, after asking them to call him up either at the office or the house whenever they desired any further word from him, or had anything to report.
As a mark of special respect, Gordon had accompanied his distinguished client to the door. Now, with a smile on his face, he returned to Nick Carter’s study, where the ex-police detective was awaiting him impatiently.
“Queer case, very!” Cray barked at him, as soon as he entered the doorway. “What’s your idea? How are we going to handle it?”
Doubtless, he had his own ideas as to the proper methods of procedure, but he was revealing, as usual, deference where Nick was concerned. His manner of exaggerated respect made it difficult for the masquerader to keep his face straight.
“I’m having the time of my life, without a doubt,” thought Gordon. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Here I am in Nick Carter’s house, monarch of all I survey, with Cray fawning on me like a faithful dog, and a multimillionaire for a client already. Soft, soft!”
The accomplished rascal had really given a very creditable performance while Lane A. Griswold was on the scene, but now, in spite of his contempt of Cray, he decided to give the latter his head for the time. It would be safer so, and, besides, Gordon was not one to exert himself unnecessarily.
He helped himself to another of Nick’s cigars, and threw himself into a chair.
“You have had more time to think about it than I have, Jack. Let’s hear how you would go about it.”
Cray found this very flattering.