“Obviously, the electric machine may furnish another, if it can be traced. It isn’t probable that it belongs to Simpson, or, if it does, that it has been in his possession very long. His salary hardly puts him in the automobile class, and there’s nothing to show that he has been dishonest in the business. Besides, an electric costs considerably more than many makes of excellent cars.” The more he thought about Simpson’s use of such a machine, the more it struck him as significant. “Why an electric, anyway?” he asked himself. “All that I know anything about are ladylike little coupés—about the last thing any man in his senses would be expected to choose for a quick get-away, especially when weighted down with eighty thousand dollars in gold. Why did he choose such a vehicle? What possible advantage could he see in it?” Green Eye turned this over for some time in his mind, stopping now and then to grin, as he realized how seriously he was entering into the problem. “I flatter myself I’m giving a pretty good imitation of Nick Carter,” he thought, with a complacent grin. “Griswold threw bouquets at me, and now I’m keeping up the pace when I don’t have to. “What’s the answer, though?” he went on mentally. “Hanged if I can see more than one possibility. It strikes me that the great advantage of an electric in the hands of a crook would be its silence. That must be it—silence. But why should silence be of any particular importance to Simpson? He didn’t have to use any gumshoe methods at the bank; therefore, it looks as if he must have anticipated the need of stealth at the other end when delivering the loot at its destination. “That’s the problem—that destination.” CHAPTER XIII. THE POLICE DOG ACTS STRANGELY. “The fellow has lived in and around New York for fifteen years, at least, for he has been in the employ of the paper that long,” Gordon thought, continuing his analysis. “Probably he hasn’t had more than two weeks’ vacation a year. If so, he hasn’t had much chance to make friends elsewhere, or familiarize himself with the criminal possibilities of any particular locality. Hold up, though, my boy! The fellow may have been born in the East, and may have spent every vacation there. Better settle that before you go much farther.” Impelled by this, he promptly called up Griswold’s office, and, after a little delay, Nick Carter’s magic name brought him directly into touch with the newspaper proprietor. “It occurred to me to ask you another question or two about our friend S., Mr. Griswold,” Green Eye said apologetically. “What is he, a New Englander? Do you happen to know?” “No, no! He comes from the Middle West—somewhere in Ohio.” “But perhaps he has been in the habit of spending his vacations in Massachusetts?”