"She's going to pull through?"
"He thinks so."
"That's good news. At least—I suppose it is."
"Huh? What in thunder do you mean?"
Krech deliberately lighted a fresh cigar before he answered, eyeing his friend steadily as he spoke.
"If she recovers, what will you do?" he asked calmly. "Hand her over to the police—as you should?"
Creighton stared at him. Then he suddenly swore—crisply, concisely, and without passion.
"That's all right, then!" said the big man with satisfaction. "I'll tell Jean just what you have said. In the event of your learning the truth, we felt some concern as to whether or not you'd be—be—"
"What?"
"Well—human!"