Already she showed the effect of it. There was color in her face, a dusky red on the high cheek bones.
"Yes—more. I didn't think—" She stopped and swallowed, her throat dry.
"Did you have the least idea, did he ever say a word to suggest he had anything as juicy as that in the background?"
"No. I can't remember all in a minute. But he never said much about himself; he was always asking about me." She paused, fixedly staring; then her glance, razor-sharp, swerved to the young man. "Will he go to jail?"
"You bet he will. I'm not sure on just what count, but they'll find one that'll fit his case. He's as much a thief as either Knapp or Garland. He knew it wasn't Captain Kidd's treasure; he saw the papers. He can't play the baby act about being ignorant. The way he hid his loot proves that."
"Yes," she murmured. "He's a thief all right. He's bad every way."
"That's what I wanted you to see. That's why I told you. You can't go on caring now."
"No." Her voice was very low. "It puts the lid on that."
"You can thank God on your bended knees he threw you down."
"Oh, yes," she rocked her head slightly from side to side with an air of morose defiance, "I can."