Flash scarcely listened. “I must get to Excelsior City at once!” he said abruptly, cutting Fleur short. “Is there a car here?”
“Mr. Rascomb’s sedan. I’ll fetch it from the garage while you wash up. Want me to lay out some clean clothes and a pair of shoes for you?”
“Never mind. I’ll help myself to what I need. You bring the car. I’m in a big hurry.”
Carrying the lantern with him, Fleur disappeared in the direction of the garage.
The door of the lodge had been left half open. Flash limped to it, but at the threshold he hesitated. He seemed to sense a presence—sinister and very close at hand. Yet he heard nothing.
Shaking off the uncomfortable sensation, he entered the lodge. A light burned in the living room but the other rooms and the entrance hall were dark.
Flash crossed to the bathroom where he switched on a light and washed what grime he could from his hands and face. His hair and eyebrows were singed; a large knob had appeared on his head.
He had changed his clothes, when he heard a slight sound in an adjoining room.
Turning off the light, Flash stepped outside. A board creaked. He whirled swiftly.
Before he could defend himself, he was struck directly behind the knees. Thrown off balance, he crumpled and fell to the floor.
A flashlight beam played upon his face, blinding him. The muzzle of a revolver pressed into his ribs.
The voice, low-spoken and cool, belonged to Herbert Rascomb.
“There is no such person as Albert Povy,” Flash’s captor corrected. “It will pay you dividends to keep that fact in mind. No! Don’t move! I really shouldn’t enjoy pumping you full of lead.”
“You prefer to assault your victims with oars?”
Rascomb laughed as he snapped on a lamp above the desk. Keeping Flash covered, he motioned for him to rise and sit on a straight-back chair against the wall.
“You forced my hand this afternoon,” he said. “I acted without due thought or I should have handled the situation differently.”
“You mean you would have cracked me harder,” Flash retorted.
“Your unexpected return has inconvenienced me,” Rascomb admitted pleasantly. “Yet, I hope you believe that I did not desire your death. You are a fellow with nerve. I admire courage. Unfortunately, your curiosity in a matter which never need have concerned you jeopardizes my interests.”