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Updated: June 19, 2025
I was immediately called in on what appeared a wide-open trail, with me so close behind Clayte that you'd have said there was nothing to it. I followed him and the suitcase to his apartment at the St. Dunstan, found he'd got there at twenty-five minutes to one, and I barely three quarters of an hour after. "How do you get the exact minute Clayte arrived?"
I started out to find a gang; but Clayte and Skeels are so exactly one, mentally, morally and physically, that I don't see why we should seek further." "Back up, Jerry," Worth tossed it over at me. "Let Barbara" he didn't often use the girl's full name that way "give you a description of Clayte before you're so sure." "How could I?" The girl's tone was defensive. "I never saw him."
A hint of it was in Whipple's voice as he asked, gravely: "Do you bind yourself to pursue Clayte and bring him, if possible, to justice?" "Bind myself to nothing. I'll give eight hundred thousand dollars for that suitcase." He fumbled in his pocket with an interrogative look at Whipple, and, "May I smoke in here?" and lit a cigarette without waiting a reply.
He held himself down to Clayte at the St. Dunstan and in the bank, and he let himself go to what? outside of it, beyond it, where he really lived." "He let himself go to Steve Skeels won't that do you?" "No," she said so positively that it was annoying. "That won't do me at all." "But it's what you got," I reminded her rather unkindly, and then was sorry I'd done it.
She went to the desk and glanced over the book; not the minute examination with the reading glass which I had given it; that mere flirt of a glance which, when I had first noticed it the night before at Tait's, skimming across that description of Clayte, had seemed so inadequate. Then she turned to me. "Mr. Gilbert cut these out himself," she pronounced.
If you've got an idea that you can buy up the chance of it for about fifty percent you're mistaken. We have too much faith in Mr. Boyne and his agency for that. Why, at this moment, one of his men may have laid hands on Clayte, or found the man who planned " He stopped with his mouth open. I saw the same suspicion that had taken his breath away grip momentarily every man at the table.
That meant that Worth was working on the Clayte case or thought he was. I told her of this. "Yes Oh, yes," she repeated listlessly. "But where is he now? And awful things things like this meeting coming up." "What besides this meeting?" "At Santa Ysobel." "What? Things that have happened since the boy's gone?
Little noises of her moving there at the table; rustle and flutter of the leaves; now and again, a long, sobbing breath. At last something like a groan caused me to turn my head and see her, with face pale as death, eyes staring across into mine. "It was Clayte Edward Clayte who killed Mr. Gilbert here in this room." The hair on the back of my neck stirred; I thought the girl had gone mad.
Across the blankness of his features shot a joyous gleam; it spread, brightening till he was radiant. "I get you!" he chortled. "Collusion! They think I'm standing in with Clayte Oh, boy!" He threw back his head and roared. I looked at my watch; quarter of ten; a little ahead of my appointment.
"You never told me anything that would be of any use to us. If this thing disappeared, I suppose Vandeman stole it to get a piece of evidence in the Clayte case out of the way." "Likely." Worth turned, with no further interest, and started toward his own gate. "Hi! Come back here," I yelled after him.
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