“How much?” asked Jack, unconcerned.
“Ten thousand dollars!”
“Quite a hunk!” Jack said, carelessly. For he thought of the package that Rutley had deftly abstracted from his pocket in the cabin, and he was glad of it, for it would be used in his defense. And then he muttered to himself: “This ‘duffer’ is slick and thinks he can work me, but I’ll fool him.”
“The fellow is pretty well fixed,” continued the detective, as he eyed Jack inquisitively.
“Clear of this case with twenty thousand dollars in his pocket.”
“What!” exclaimed Jack, for the first time amazed, and then checking himself, said negligently:
“I understood you to say the reward was ten thousand dollars?”
“So I did. Ten thousand reward and that ransom money of Miss Thorpe’s.”
“The devil he has!”
Jack was beginning to waver. He thought of Rutley holding back the “tip” that he was shadowed, and also about the dog not barking at his approach, for some time after he had entered the cabin. Either of which incidents, had it been mentioned immediately upon entry, would have made escape possible. It seemed to corroborate the detective’s assertion—that he was sold. His jaws set hard.