More than once during the wait that followed, Jack Cray felt compelled to enjoin silence.
Under ordinary circumstances, he would not have thought of doing so where Nick Carter—as he believed—was concerned. That night, however, the great detective appeared to be unusually reckless, and Cray, on the other hand, felt an unwonted sense of responsibility and leadership.
To be sure, his ally had taken the joy out of life to some extent by arriving at practically the same point through a process of reasoning, but Cray had done all the work, and was quite proud of his achievements; therefore, for once in his life, he felt somewhere near on an equality with Nick, and allowed himself to call Gordon down for incautious remarks now and then.
“Not a word now!” he at last whispered authoritatively. “No telling how soon he may come!”
As a matter of fact, he had reason to be more cautious, and to take Simpson’s anticipated advent more seriously than did Gordon. Cray was doing everything in good faith, and kept continually in mind Griswold’s injunctions in regard to secrecy. He believed that it would be easy enough for two of them to capture Simpson, should that individual appear, but he went further than that, and determined to accomplish the capture as nearly in silence as possible, for he feared that the neighborhood might be aroused by Mrs. Simpson, if she heard anything in the nature of a scuffle.
On the contrary, Green Eye cared nothing about the millionaire newspaper proprietor’s desires or interests, and it made little difference to him whether the man were arrested or not, if only he could get the best of Cray and Simpson and make his get-away.
Nevertheless, he did not resent Cray’s assumption of command, for his brain was very busy, and quickly turned from the contemplation of one pleasing possibility to another.
He did not believe that a man of John Simpson’s type had succeeded in spending very much of that eighty thousand dollars. Therefore, the absconding treasurer’s loot promised to be well worth having as a nest egg.
Gordon meant it to be more than a nest egg, though. Other and larger sums were soon to join it and keep it company, according to those rosy dreams of his.
Now to the front crowded memories of those coveted papers he had examined in Nick Carter’s study that afternoon—the papers which were now safe in his pockets, and represented his real fortune.