he old gentleman laughed.
"There's no fear of him losing them. He may have to fight for them, but he'll never lose them I know him too well for that."
Helen's eyes opened wide.
"He may have to fight for them," she echoed. "Do you mean that?"
"No—no, of course not," said the president hastily. "No one will even know he has them in his possession. We have kept the matter very quiet."
Mr. Steell shrugged his shoulders. Drily he said:
"Oh, I guess Ken is big enough to take care of himself. It does look as if it were tempting Providence to carry loose on one's person valuables for so large an amount, but it's hardly likely that any of the denizens of the underworld know of his departure. Still less that he is carrying a million loose in his clothes. I don't see that there's any reason to worry."
"That's precisely my opinion," said a musical voice immediately behind them.
All started and looked up. Everyone had been so intent on the conversation that they had not noticed a man who had entered the room.
He was a tall, dark-complexioned man of five and thirty with strong, stern features, which, in repose, were actually forbidding. The mouth, partly concealed by a long, bristling moustache, was firm, suggesting relentless will power, and his eyes, restless, keen and searching, had taken in every person there long before anyone was aware of his presence. He was fashionably, even elegantly dressed, and on his left hand he wore a solitaire of uncommon size and luster. His hair, carefully curled, scented and parted, was extraordinarily dark, contrasting sharply with the unusual pallor of his face. He spoke low and musically, with a slight foreign accent.