“Well,” he said, with assumed modesty, “I had thought of one or two little things. Of course, there are two ends to be picked up, two places to cover. One’s Hattontown—tracing the electric machine, and all that.”
Green Eye made a gesture of indifference, as if he did not think much of that suggestion.
“The other’s this end,” Cray went on, somewhat less confidently, meaning the fellow’s home.
Gordon gave a slight nod. “That’s more likely to yield something, I should say,” he declared. “Of course, an electric car is comparatively uncommon, and might be traced without a great deal of trouble. Several days have passed, however, and that will make considerable difference. Suppose we consider the situation at New Pelham. Much depends on that. Of course, if Simpson is tired of his wife, and has decided to abandon her, we may not be able to get a single clew there.”
He gave another glance at the photograph which Griswold had left on the desk.
“The fellow’s face is against that supposition, however,” he went on; “I don’t believe he has spunk enough to cut himself off absolutely from his wife.”
“Had spunk enough to swipe a fortune,” Cray pointed out skeptically.
“I know, but there’s a difference. I don’t know where he got the nerve to do what he did, but I’d like to wager a tidy little sum that a man with that weak chin and mouth would be too much a slave to habit to cut his domestic bonds with one slash. He’s probably foolishly fond of that wife of his, no matter how much of a fright she may be, and, if I’m right——”
“He’ll write her sooner or later, or try to sneak an interview,” Cray burst out excitedly, with the air of one who had just arrived unaided at the most astounding conclusion.
“Precisely,” agreed the masquerader. “That being so, I think you had better cover the New Pelham end of it. Go and see the man’s wife, tell her you are from the office, and find out all she knows. She may give you a clew right away, without knowing it—something that may mean nothing to her, but much to you.”