He slipped the manila envelope into the breast of his coat. Having planned what he considered was the best move, the young motorist was never more resolute in seeking to carry it out. Even though he was retaining Levitt’s property, yet right and justice upheld him in doing so.
“By Jupiter,” murmured Levitt, his eyes flaming, “he’s intending to take that private report to the Syndicate meeting to-night! If he does——” He gulped on his words, finishing with a significant glance at Billings.
Matt was wondering how he and McGlory could get out of the room without making too much of a scene. He understood very well that the colonel could inaugurate a pursuit, in case he and his chum succeeded in getting away with the envelope and its contents, and that, for a time at least, any story the colonel and Levitt chose to tell would be accepted. Temporary advantage was all on the side of the colonel and the mining engineer.
“He won’t show that paper at the meeting, Levitt,” gritted the colonel, now thoroughly aroused. “We’re done fooling with him.”
He stepped toward Matt from one side, while Levitt advanced from the other. The cowboy tried to push closer to his chum, but the colonel held him back. One of the colonel’s hands went groping in the direction of a hip pocket. Matt guessed what the hand was after.
“The window, Joe!” he called.
Simultaneously with the words, the king of the motor boys whirled, pushed through the window, lowered himself swiftly from the sill, and dropped.
The colonel grabbed at the hands on the sill, but they pulled out from under his gripping fingers; then, looking downward, he saw the lithe, agile form of Matt King lift itself from a flower bed and fade from sight around a corner of the building.
Two young fellows with golf sticks were crossing the lawn and had witnessed Matt’s drop from the window. Naturally they were surprised at the peculiar proceeding and stood looking up at the colonel.
“Catch him!” bawled the colonel; “he’s a thief!”