“He forgot himself when he cursed me,” was the reply, “and I thought I recognized the voice; then I caught a glimpse of his eyes, and I was sure. There’s only one man with eyes like that—cat’s eyes. They looked green as he glared at me. He knows I recognized him, because I said his name just before I got my knock-out. Probably he thought he had killed me, for I don’t believe he would have left me to tell the tale.” He paused for a moment, and one hand wandered weakly to his injured head. “I’ll never get over the way I was taken in,” he went on, more faintly. “Most humiliating. Must say, he’s a wonder, though. Never imagined anybody could pull off a stunt like that. The car is an electric—a coupé, two or three years old, I should say. The gold was in a couple of suit cases which had been buried in the ground. Can’t tell you any more, I’m afraid—just about all in, you see.” He looked about helplessly, and in a frightened sort of way, then, with a sigh, lapsed into unconsciousness once more. CHAPTER XL. NICK OUTLINES HIS CAMPAIGN. In a moment Doctor Lord and the nurse were back at the patient’s side. “I must ask you gentlemen to go,” the physician said crisply. “This has been too much for him, as it is, and any further excitement might cause serious complications, if nothing worse.” There was nothing for it but to withdraw, and to hope that the effect of the interview would not be as serious as the doctor suggested. Fortunately, the detective instinct had been strong in Cray, notwithstanding his condition, and he had covered the ground pretty thoroughly—surprisingly so, in view of the few words he had spoken. His statement about the suit case, and his description of the car might prove particularly valuable. Nick took pains to interview Simpson, his wife, and the servant before leaving the house and then paid a visit to the garage. He smiled as he noted the subterfuge of the underground gasoline tank. “Quite clever, on the surface,” he remarked, “but Simpson seems to be a queer mixture. He impresses you at one time with his cleverness, at another with stupidity.” “I don’t see anything stupid about this,” Griswold objected. “It strikes me as very ingenious. It permitted him to dig up the ground to his heart’s content without arousing suspicion.” “True,” conceded the detective. “The ordinary person would have seen nothing strange about it; but doesn’t the presence of a gasoline tank underground, or any other kind, strike you as a little peculiar when a man owns an electric?” The millionaire looked very sheepish. “I’m afraid I must plead guilty to stupidity as well,” he confessed. “That didn’t occur to me, and I doubt if it ever would.” The two detectives made a thorough examination of the little garage, the ground about it, and the pile of lumber, as well as the road at the rear.