As best he could, he obliterated the track he had left in dragging Cray to the lumber pile, after which he climbed into the machine, disposed of the precious suit cases to the best advantage, and touched the starting lever. He had not yet turned on the lights of the car, but the hours he had spent in the gloom had thoroughly accustomed his eyes to the darkness, and, therefore, he had no trouble in guiding the easily controlled car out through the gate and into the road beyond. There he brought it to a stop, and, returning hastily, obliterated the tire marks in front of the garage and such of his own footprints as he could find. He did not wish to use his flash light too much, however; therefore, it is quite possible that the job was not a very thorough one. Finally he passed through the gate, closed it, and reëntered the car, which quietly purred away into the night. Green-eye Gordon’s extraordinary daring had put him into possession of a fortune of close to seventy-five thousand dollars, at least, as well as a bundle of papers which might yield him several times that amount. He had robbed a thief and left the latter an unofficial prisoner, doomed to starvation, in all probability, if he were not soon found. And he had murderously assaulted Jack Cray and left him, a battered and bleeding hulk, supposedly dead. It was quite a day’s work, and Green-eye Gordon may be excused for feeling considerably elated. His work was full of holes, however, and far from detection-proof, as Nick Carter could have proved to him in short order. The question was, would Nick have the chance in time to avoid a chase around the world? CHAPTER XXVIII. WHAT THE DOG BARKED AT. About half past six the following morning, Mrs. Simpson’s maid, who had slept out, let herself into the house with her latchkey and quietly made her way to the kitchen. As usual, her first act was to open the door and windows, for the weather was warm. In doing so, she was attracted by a disturbance in the back yard, and realized that she had heard a dog barking furiously as she came along the street and through the house. She had paid no particular attention to the persistent barking, but now that she found the animal was in the rear of the Simpson lot, and acting very strangely, her curiosity was fully aroused. She did not know the dog. It was brownish in hue, collarless, and neglected in appearance. Obviously it was a stray animal which had found its way there on a foraging expedition. Now, however, its original errand had been completely forgotten, and the greatest excitement had taken its place. The creature was running from one end of the lumber pile to the other—always being careful to remain at a respectful distance—and was giving vent to an unending series of frenzied barks.