Mr. Davis gave Bill a grave smile. “Yes, it is just as well you’ll have no climbing tonight, with those hands. But to get back to the plan of campaign. When I leave you chaps, get into the grounds and make for the house. Chances are the old fellow is well guarded, so be on the watch. After the way you two went through the woods up at Heartfield’s, I’m sure you’re capable of making your objective without being seen. Choose one of the windows at the side of the house, if possible. And keep under cover. Listen to the conversation until you’re sure that Fanely is our man. Then go back to the road. I will pick you up there.”
“What if the windows are closed?” Osceola inquired. “This weather is warm enough, but the aged are never keen on drafts or fresh air, you know.”
“That’s a good point, Chief, and I’ve got something here that will take care of it.” He produced a small package from his coat pocket. “Putty and a diamond-tipped glass-cutter’s tool,” he explained. “Slap the putty on the window pane, then cut round it with the tool. The piece of cut glass will come away with the putty. If you lads stick with me for any length of time, I’ll soon have you trained as expert housebreakers,” he laughed.
“That,” said Bill, “is all right as far as it goes, but also suppose the old buzzard gets nasty. Our one and only interview with him gave me the impression that he could be fiendishly cruel when he chose.”
Mr. Davis looked puzzled. “I don’t think I quite get you, Bill.”
“I mean, sir, what provision have you made for your own safety? Supposing Old Fanely, who is nobody’s fool by your own admission, gets an inkling of what is really in the wind, and has his men jump you? The fiend was capable of having us put out of the way. He may try the same thing on you.”
“Oh, no, he won’t. In the first place he will know exactly who I am and what I represent. If I were done away with, his plans, whatever they are, would come tumbling down like a house of cards. Such procedure would jeopardize his enormous interests and immediately place him in a position where the police would step in and apprehend him for murder. I talked over such possibilities with the man I saw in New York and we discounted them. Professor Fanely, unless pushed to the wall, will do nothing so crude as that. This is simply a business call I’m making. He will probably deny any knowledge of Kolinski; I will string him along for a while so you two can get an earful and then bid him good night,—with apologies for taking up his valuable time.”
“Couldn’t we notify Captain Simmonds, or even the Greenwich police to keep a watchful eye open?” persisted Bill. “I hate to think of you putting yourself in that old devil’s power. The Chief and I have been in direct contact with him—you haven’t!”
Mr. Davis seemed touched. “It’s good of you boys to take so much interest in my safety, and I appreciate it, I need hardly tell you. But the thing is impossible. My orders are to keep this absolutely to ourselves. Not even the police must hear a rumor against the Professor. The gentleman from Washington ridiculed the idea of Fanely’s being connected with any scandal. He said frankly that he believed it to be a case of mistaken identity. And it was only after a long and serious discussion that I obtained permission to call on Fanely. He allowed me to outline my suppositions, but told me that if we continue on this trail, we must go it alone.”
“Which means, of course,” Osceola remarked, “that if Bill and I are caught in the grounds and manhandled for trespassing, you will deny that we were acting under your orders, and we’re just as likely to get a jail sentence for our trouble.”