"Heh, heh." The old man made that queer noise in his throat again. "Heh, heh. Well, Mr. Ward, you know you are already on your son's bond."
"For ten thousand, yes--not for twenty-four."
"Quite right!" said Hunter, taken somewhat aback. Then they were silent.
"What assurance can you give me, Mr. Hunter?" He took the cigar from his lips and looked directly at Hunter.
"Well, I'm afraid, Mr. Ward, that that has passed out of my hands. You see--"
"You told Eades; yes, I know!" Ward was angry, but he realized the necessity for holding his temper.
"Why did you do that, Mr. Hunter, if I may ask? What did you expect to gain?"
Hunter made the queer noise in his throat and then he stammered:
"Well, Mr. Ward, you must understand that--heh--our Trust Company is a state institution--and I felt it to be my duty, as a citizen, you know, to report any irregularities to the proper official. Merely my duty, as a citizen, Mr. Ward, you understand, as a citizen. Painful, to be sure, but my duty."
Ward might not have been able to conceal the disgust he felt for this old man if he had not, for the first time that evening, been reminded by Hunter's own words that the affair was not one to come within the federal statutes. What Hunter's motive had been in reporting the matter to Eades so promptly, he could not imagine. It would seem that he could have dealt better by keeping the situation in his own hands; that he could have held the threat of prosecution over his head as a weapon quite as menacing as this, and certainly one he could more easily control. But Hunter was mysterious; he waded in the water, and Ward could not follow his tracks. He was sure of but one thing, and that was that the reason Hunter had given was not the real reason.