“Just a word or two, then,” Green Eye said in a self-satisfied tone that was far from characteristic of the man he was impersonating. “In the first place, I’ve made up my mind that there’s no use in looking for Simpson in New England. The trail starts there, of course, but it ends here.”
“Here!” echoed Cray in amazement. “How the dickens did you hit upon that?”
Gordon had not meant the word to be taken quite so literally. He felt sure that the fugitive had headed for New York, or some place in the immediate neighborhood, and he was inclined to believe that he was lurking in the vicinity of New Pelham, but he was prepared to shift his ground, if necessary.
Now he realized, as a result of Cray’s amazing question, that he was on the right track. Furthermore, that realization gave him confidence, and helped him to fit in the rest.
“Oh, I’ve just arrived at it,” he said carelessly, determined to use his companion’s unconscious tip for all it was worth. “He has been back in New Pelham, and will be again, if he isn’t at this moment. More than that, I have a suspicion that he has been lurking about his own house.”
“For the love of Mike!” Cray breathed, looking his admiration as they strolled through the gathering dusk. “You sure are a wizard!”
“Not a bit of it. I simply use my reason, and when I find two and two, I don’t hesitate to put them together, knowing that the result is bound to be four.”
“But what in thunder led you to think that the fellow would come back here—especially that he would dare to return to his own place?” demanded Jack.