"And he might have gotten me," said Peter, "which would have been worse."
"You mean—you didn't—know," groaned Hawk, getting up into a sitting posture.
"No. I didn't," replied Peter.
He had found the torch now and was flashing it around on the ground while he picked up the scattered money.
"I'll fix him for this," groaned the stranger.
Peter glanced at him.
"His men will be down here in a moment. You'd better be getting up."
"I'm not afraid. They can't do anything to me. They'd better leave me alone. McGuire don't want me to talk. But I'll squeal if they bother me." Peter was aware that the man was watching him as he picked up the bills and heard him ask haltingly, "What are you—going to do—with that money?"
"My orders were to give it to you. Don't you want it?"
Peter turned and for the first time flashed the lamp full in the injured man's face. Even then Peter didn't recognize him, but he saw Hawk Kennedy's eyes open wide as he stared at Peter.