“So they are dividing the ‘spoils’—or Griff was giving him money.” Bob, unable to see Griff, not daring to emerge from his concealment, made the deduction under his breath. “Well, now shall I follow that man? No, because his car is too fast. I can’t catch him on my wheel.”
He decided to wait where he was, to see what would happen. To go in at once might alarm Griff. He might realize that Bob had been near enough to see what had occurred; he might suspect. Bob wanted to keep his presence unknown; Griff had already been warned by Lang; he would jump to the conclusion that Bob was watching.
Almost at once Bob thanked his good sense for holding him concealed.
Griff, as he watched, ran wildly out into the road and began to wave and shout after the receding car.
Its driver did not turn around.
Griff, while Bob stared, dashed back into the gateway. For a moment Bob wondered where the watchman was, then he saw the man, in a small ice-cream and soda water shack, a little distance down the road opposite the fenced property. Griff, Bob guessed, had offered to watch the gate while the man refreshed himself.
Bob hesitated. Where had Griff gone? What was he doing?
The last question was answered by the pop-pop of a motor. Bob knew that Griff rode a motorcycle. He was getting it started. He meant to pursue that car for some reason. Something had caused him to want to talk again with the car driver, Bob mused.
While he watched, keeping all but his head concealed, the motorcycle, with Griff mounted on it, came sputtering into view.
Never glancing around, opening his throttle, he pelted down the road after the car.