I knew my only chance consisted in playing a bold game.
With the “hopelessness of my case” ringing in my ears, I had not the courage to confront him myself, and yet in half an hour he would be gone.
It was just a question of finding O’Leary and bringing him on the scene of action in those thirty minutes. There was no vehicle at hand.
I ran hastily to the head office of the police, and found to my dismay that O’Leary was not there, nor was there anyone who knew where he could be found.
I retained the services of the chief officer present, secured a cab, and went at full gallop to O’Leary’s private residence, where we were fortunate enough to find him.
He immediately entered the cab and we returned to Montreal House, whilst I related to him all that had occurred since I last saw him.
As I told him we should probably find our man quietly taking dinner, his face lighted up with pleasure, and he exclaimed, “It’s one of the most beautiful little affairs I have been engaged in for sometime past!”
I feared that his zeal might get the better of his discretion.
I again explained to him the full nature of the case, that I could not legally give him into custody, and my only chance of recovering any portion of the money with which he had absconded from England, was to frighten him into some concession before he could procure legal advice.
O’Leary appeared delighted with the prospect of his game, and requesting me to “lave it entoirely in his hands,” assured me that in case he were obstinate he would terrify him out of his life.