Peter nodded. "But of course there's no reason why your mysterious visitor should take a pot at me," he said. And then, curiously, "Do you think so, Mr. McGuire?"
"Oh, no," said the other quickly. "You have no interest in this affair. You're my messenger, that's all. But I want you to follow my instructions carefully. I've trusted you this far and I've got to go the whole way. This man will say something. You will try to remember word for word what he says to you, and you're to repeat that message to me."
"That shouldn't be difficult."
McGuire was holding the money in his hand and went on in an abstraction as though weighing words.
"I want you to go at once to the maple tree. I want you to go now so that you will be there when this man arrives. You will stand waiting for him and when he comes you will throw the light into his face, so that you can see him when you talk to him, and so that he can count this money and see that the amount is correct. I do not want you to go too close to him nor to permit him to go too close to you—you are merely to hand him this package and throw the light while he counts the money. Then you are to say to him these words, 'Don't forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy.'"
"'Don't forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy,'" murmured Peter in amazement. And then, "But suppose he wants to tell me a lot of things you don't want me to know——"
"I'll have to risk that," put in McGuire grimly. "I want you to watch him carefully, Nichols. Are you pretty quick on the draw?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, can you draw your gun and shoot quickly—surely? If you can't, you'd better have your gun in your pocket, keep him covered and at the first sign, shoot through your coat."
Peter took out his revolver and examined it quizzically. "I thought you said, Mr. McGuire," he put in coolly, "that I was not to be required to do anything a gentleman couldn't do."