Presently he said, “They have arrived at Banff, Gatineau. That horror of a woman has arrived—and she will ask for a message from Newman. Do you appreciate that? She’ll go there expecting a message.”
“She won’t get one,” said Gatineau, grinning. He put his hand in his pocket. He drew out Newman’s—or Neuburg’s—train letter saying all was clear, and ordering Méduse to go to Revelstoke. “I brought it along with me. I thought of that.”
“Yes,” said Clement. “You thought of that. But did you think of what would happen when she asks for the message she is expecting—and does not get it?”
“Hell,” said the little detective explosively.
“Just that,” agreed Clement. “She’ll raise it. She’ll get panicky. And she’ll do something.”
“She just will; she’ll fly to the wire or to the distance ’phone to Sicamous. She’ll get through to Neuburg. Why, in the name of Mike, didn’t I think of that?”
“Why, in the name of Michael, didn’t I?” said Clement hardly. “It was my idiotic haste. But that doesn’t help. What does help? She’ll get through to Sicamous and Neuburg; she will warn Neuburg. And—and what can we do?”
They stood staring blankly at each other in the swaying car.
What could they do?