“I know Mr. Levitt,” said the voice. “He was here this morning, but he’s not here now.”
“Sure he’s not there?” responded Kelly. “This is the garage at the Malvern Country Club—get that? Levitt left here in a runabout an hour ago, bound for New York. He ought to pass your place in a little while. Lay for him. If you can, get him to the phone and have him call up Kelly—Kelly at the Malvern Country Club garage, understand—it will be worth a fiver to Levitt. Have somebody watch for the runabout an’ flag Levitt. Will you?”
“Yes.”
Kelly, highly pleased with himself, hung up the receiver. Then he waited—waited an hour, two hours, three hours—waited until nightfall, till 7 o’clock, 8 o’clock, 9 o’clock came, but no call arrived from Krug’s.
The reason was that Levitt did not pass Krug’s Corner. It was the only route from the Malvern Country Club to New York—but, nevertheless, Levitt did not pass.
The white runabout passed, however, and it had two passengers.
[CHAPTER XII.
A STARTLING MYSTERY.]
Matt, on leaving the garage, gave a hasty look around for Uncle Tom. The old negro was not in sight. Matt could not spend any time looking for him, in that particular place, and ran for the road, hoping to find Uncle Tom waiting for him farther on.
In this he was not disappointed. Well toward the place where Matt had had his memorable interview with his cowboy pard, the negro pushed out of the undergrowth.