Kennedy even sought out the manager of the hotel, and
after telling who he was, had a search made of the guests who
might be suspected. The best we could do was to leave word that
the employees might be put on the lookout for anything of a
suspicious nature.
Whitney, the innocent cause of all this commotion, was still in
the writing-room with his letters.
"I think I ought to tell him," decided Kennedy as we passed down
the lobby.
He seemed surprised to see us, as we strolled up to his writing
desk, but pushed aside the few letters which he had not finished
and asked us to sit down.
"I don't know whether you have noticed it," began Craig, "but I
wonder how you feel?"
Whitney had expected something else rather than his health as the
subject of a quiz. "Pretty good now," he answered before he knew
it, "although I must admit that for the past few days I have
wondered whether I wasn't slowing up a bit--or rather going too
fast."
"Would you like to know why you feel that way?" asked Craig.
Whitney was now genuinely puzzled. It was perfectly evident, as it
had been all the time, that he had not the slightest inkling of
what was going on.
As Craig briefly unfolded what we had discovered and the reason
for it, Whitney watched him aghast.
Pages:
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236