Then, as I lay there, staring up into the darkness, a stinging
thought brought me upright.
Godfrey--where was Godfrey? Was he on the track of Crochard? Was he
daring a contest with him? Perhaps, even at this moment....
Scarcely knowing what I did, I groped my way to the telephone and
asked for Godfrey's number--hoping against hope absurdly--and at
last, to my intense surprise and relief, I heard his voice--not a
very amiable voice....
"Hello!" he said.
"Godfrey," I began, "it's Lester. He got away."
"Of course he got away. You didn't call me out of bed to tell me
that, I hope?"
"Then you knew about it?"
"I knew he'd get away."
"When the wagon got to the bank there was nobody inside but Simmonds.
Simmonds went along, you know."
"Was he hurt?"
"He was unconscious, but he came around all right."
"That's good--but Crochard wouldn't hurt him. He got away with the
jewels, of course?"
"Of course," I assented, surprised that Godfrey should take it so
coolly. "When you rushed out that way," I added, "I thought maybe you
were going after him."
"With him twenty minutes in the lead? I'm no such fool! He got away
from me the other day with a start of about half a second.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293