Winthrop Crawford was not satisfied, however. His anxiety was centered about the welfare of his old friend, and he could not lose sight of Stone’s continued absence from the Windermere.  
“But what are you going to do about Jimmy?” he asked eagerly. “Don’t delay, man. Hunt him up as soon as possible, even if you have to defy Follansbee, and mess things up generally in order to do so.”
 
“Don’t worry about that, Crawford. I’ll look out for your friend. He may have spent the night at Follansbee’s house. At any rate, the doctor is a marked man, and if Stone has gone anywhere with his companion, it ought to be a comparatively easy matter to trace them. You can’t stay here, though, while I’m doing it.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“For various reasons. If you did so, and Stone came back, it would be hard to act as if nothing had happened, and he would be watching you with lynx eyes, waiting to see the effect of the injection. I haven’t had time yet to analyze the original contents of the syringe, so that I can’t say just how the stuff is supposed to act. In order to be on the safe side, though, you’ll have to leave the Windermere for the time being. If you’re out of their sight, they will not be able to keep tabs on your condition, and we can easily enough make them believe that the disease which they suppose has been introduced into your system is following its normal course.”
 
“But won’t Jimmy think it strange if I disappear after I’ve stuck to him so long—stuck to him against his will?”
 
“You can leave word for him. Write him a note and make some excuse that will sound plausible.”
 
“Yes, I could do that,” the miner agreed. “Where do you want me to go?”
 
“I haven’t thought of any particular place as yet. That will come later, but it is necessary that you should go away at once. Furthermore, I want the people here in the hotel to see you and me go out together.”
 
Crawford soon became convinced that something of the sort was desirable. He was very reluctant to leave the hotel before learning anything definite concerning Stone’s whereabouts, but there seemed no help for it, and Nick promised to let him know at frequent intervals whenever anything new came up. By half-past nine o’clock Crawford and the detective—the latter once more in the guise of Thomas Mortimer—were eating their breakfast in the dining room. Making a pretense of eating, however, would be the better way of describing the half-hearted way in which the man from South America toyed with his food.
 
Before ten o’clock they had both left the Windermere without giving any one a hint as to their destination. So far as the detective knew, he was the only one on the case; therefore it did not occur to him to keep Chick advised of his comings and goings.
 
Crawford took with him nothing in the way of bagg............