III - ONE LAST ARGUMENT––––––––
ADJOINING the bedroom of Samuel Appleby at Sycamore Ridge was a small sitting-room, also at his disposal. Here, later that same evening he sat in confab with his two assistants.
“We leave tomorrow afternoon,” he said to Keefe and Miss Lane. “But before that, we’ve much to do. So far, we’ve accomplished nothing. I am a little discouraged but not disheartened. I still have a trump card to play, but I don’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.”
“If you were inclined to take us further into your confidence, Mr. Appleby,” Keefe began, and the older man interrupted:
“That’s just what I propose to do. The time has come for it. Perhaps if you both know the situation you may work more intelligently.”
“Sure we could!” exclaimed Genevieve. She was leaning f
