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The girl bowed with a rather startled air, and Mr. Cargan mumbled something that had "pleasure" in it. In the office they found Professor Bolton and Mr. Bland sitting gloomily before the fireplace. "Got the news, Magee?" asked the haberdasher. "Peters has done a disappearing act." It was evident to Magee that everybody looked upon Peters as his creature, and laid the hermit's sins at his door.
"The night you speak so highly of," replied Mr. Magee, "is at your left. You have lost your way. Good night, Professor." He stepped inside and closed the window. Then he pulled down the curtains in both rooms of his suite, and spent some time exploring. Finally he paused before the fireplace, and with the aid of a knife unloosed a brick.
"I was present," smiled Magee, "at the ceremony you mention." "Yes? All these plans, as I have said, were known to Drayton. A few nights ago he came to me. He wanted to send an emissary to Baldpate a man whom Cargan had never met one who could perhaps keep up the pretense of being here for some other reason than a connection with the bribe.
Magee passed down the corridor to the farther end, where he rapped on the door of Miss Thornhill's room. She appeared almost immediately, buried beneath furs and wraps. "You must be nearly frozen," remarked Mr. Magee pityingly. "You and your maid come down to the office. I want you to meet the other guests." "I'll come," she replied. "Mr. Magee, I've a confession to make. I invented the maid.
Take the boodle and welcome it ain't mine but put me next to what's doing, so I'll know how my instalment of this serial story ought to read." "Mr. Cargan," replied Magee, "you know as much about that girl as I do. She asked me to get her the money, and I did." "But what's your place in the game?" "A looker-on in Athens," returned Magee.
"Baldpate Inn," Bentley had cried in his idiom. "Why, Billy Baldpate Inn at Christmas it must be old John H. Seclusion himself." Yes, here he was. And here was the solitude he had come to find. Mr. Magee looked nervously about, and the smile died out of his gray eyes. For the first time misgivings smote him. Might one not have too much of a good thing?
Magee, "there was some talk between Mr. Bland and myself about one of us leaving the inn. Mr. Bland demanded it. I trust he sees the matter differently this morning. I for one should be sorry to see him go." "I've changed my mind," said Mr. Bland. The look on his thin face was not a pleasant one. "Very good," went on Mr. Magee. "I see no reason why we should not proceed on friendly terms. Mr.
Magee started for the stairs. Between him and them loomed suddenly the great bulk of Mr. Cargan. His hard menacing eyes looked full into Magee's. "I want to speak to you, young fellow," he remarked. "I'm flattered," said Magee, "that you find my company so enchanting. In ten minutes I'll be ready for another interview." "You're ready now," answered the mayor, "even if you don't know it."
But I'm not an expert I might shoot higher than I intend. So I suggest that no one else try a break for it." "Mr. Magee," said Miss Thornhill, "I don't believe you have the slightest idea who that girl is, nor what she wants with the money." "That," he replied, "makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?" "Do you mean " the professor, exploded, "you don't know her? Well, you young fool."
Quimby, looking in a dazed fashion at his wife, "I reckon I'll have to talk it over with ma." The two retired to the next room, and Mr. Magee fixed his eyes on a "God Bless Our Home" motto while he awaited their return. Presently they reappeared. "Was you thinking of eating?" inquired Mrs. Quimby sarcastically, "while you stayed up there?" "I certainly was," smiled Mr. Magee.
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