As the Storm girl read these words her cheeks blanched like the paper before her.
"You—you're going to send that?"
He nodded. "I'm going to send it to-night unless you deliver the goods. Mind this, it isn't a case of 'perhaps' or 'meet me to-morrow in the summer house' or any other fool fake excuse. I've had enough of that and I've waited all I'm going to. Either you deliver the goods right now or——" He pointed in grim menace to the letter.
"What goods are you talking about? What is it you want delivered?" she asked.
"My share of that money, my half. Don't say you didn't get it. I know you did. I've found out things, little Hester, since you played me for a sucker the other day."
She faced him steadily now. If she could only draw him into an argument. She didn't believe the man was born that she couldn't get the best of in a talking match.
"What have you found out? Go on, tell me."
"About Henderson, for one thing. You said you reported to him every day over the telephone."
"Well?"
"It was a lie. You never reported to Henderson. And you said there was a little man in a brown derby hat—who stuttered. Remember?"