“I shall want dinner by six-thirty to-night, Joseph,” he said.
“Very good, sir,” the butler replied. “Any special orders?”
“No, no—the usual thing.”
After the butler had departed, Green Eye hastily bathed and changed his clothing, after which he seated himself at the desk, and began going through the papers in a more careful way, stopping to consider their possibilities now and then, or to jot down a note.
Dinner was announced long before he expected it, and, after keeping it waiting for ten minutes or more, he rose, stretched himself, and, with a little hesitation, thrust all of the papers into his pockets, to which he had already transferred the stolen money.
“For all I know, I may never return here,” he told himself. “It isn’t likely that Cray has located Simpson’s treasure chest, but if he has, the situation will call for immediate action on my part—and the worthy Cray and I will hardly be friends afterward, if he survives. He’ll know I’m not Carter if I stick him up for the eighty thou, and that means that I’ll have to make myself scarce, and be quick about it.”