"That fellow has us by the throat!" he groaned.
"We should have thought of that—" I began.
"Stop!" he gasped. "You can hold a post-mortem later on. They haven't got us yet—and, by God! we've a long start. Once let us whip Hawkins out of the way and they're helpless! I must stay here to fight the case, but you, Quib, must take this fellow where they'll never find him—Africa, Alaska, Europe—anywhere! If you could drop him over a precipice or off an ocean liner—so much the better!"
For an instant we eyed each other keenly. Then I shook my head.
"No," said I. "If it came to that I'd rather go to jail."
It was now nearly seven o'clock and I felt faint for something to eat; so I stumbled upstairs and awakened my butler, who stared at me stupidly when he saw me beside his bed in evening dress. When I rejoined Gottlieb I found him examining the morning paper, which a boy had just brought to the front door. Across the front page in double-leaded type was printed:
THE DILLINGHAM DIVORCE AGAIN
Arthur P. Hawkins Indicted for Perjury
Extraordinary Disclosures Expected
Two Prominent Criminal Attorneys Said to be Involved