"Killed himself? I don't understand. Why should he do that? Surely not because—no—" He looked questioningly into the white face of the girl at his side; she only shook her head. "Killed himself," he repeated, like a man wakened from sleep. "I don't understand."
On tiptoe the amateur hermits of Baldpate descended to the hotel office. Mr. Magee saw the eyes of the girl of the station upon him, wide with doubt and alarm. While the others gathered in little groups and talked, he took her to one side.
"When does the next train leave for Reuton?" he asked her.
"In two hours—at ten-thirty," she replied.
"You must be on it," he told her. "With you will go the two-hundred-thousand-dollar package. I have it in my pocket now."
She took the news stolidly, and made no reply.
"Are you afraid?" asked Magee gently. "You mustn't be. No harm can touch you. I shall stay here and see that no one follows."
"I'm not afraid," she replied. "Just startled, that's all. Did he—did he do it because you took this money—because he was afraid of what would happen?"
"You mean Hayden?" Magee said. "No. This money was not concerned in—his death. That is an affair between Kendrick and him."
"I see," answered the girl slowly. "I'm so glad it wasn't—the money. I couldn't bear it if it were."