"Sure, Mr. Waldstricker, sure, I get ye. I ain't tight now, not real soused."
Moving to the door, he stopped. "But I air not goin' to swig any more booze till we gets Andy Bishop an' I finger that reward."
More intoxicated by his dreams of affluence than by the liquor he'd had, the pale-faced graduate of Auburn swung out of the room and clattered down the stairs.
After Waldstricker'd written and despatched a letter and a telegram, he closed the office and went home.
Helen met him smilingly.
"Elsie's asleep," she announced, taking his hat.
He snatched it from her slender fingers, and his wife moved back. She looked more closely into his face and the exaltation shining in his eyes frightened her.
She followed him into the drawing room and closed the door. Patiently, she waited until her husband had thrown himself into a chair and was looking at her.
"What is it, dear?" she murmured.
"I have your brother just where I want him," fell from his lips.