Jack Townshead groaned. "Thank God," he said, with a tremor in his voice. "But, Harry, what is to be done? I simply can't tell the old man—and there's Nellie. You can't deny sufficient to be any good—and the cursed thing will kill her. Now I'm trying not to blame you—but there must be a way of getting out somehow—and it's for you to find it."
Alton leaned upon the table a trifle more heavily, his eyes half-closed, and one hand clenched.
"Yes," he said slowly. "There is a way—and I'm beginning to see it now. Get your hat, Jack, and in the first place we'll go right along and see Mr. Cartier."
The lad rose, and then, possibly because he was over-strung and needed relief in some direction, laughed harshly. "I think you had better wash your face before you go," he said.
Twenty minutes later they entered an office together and Alton signed to a clerk. "Tell Mr. Cartier I'm wanting to see him right now," he said. "You know who I am."
The man smiled, for he probably also grasped the purport of Alton's visit. "Then you had better come back in a week," he said. "He went across to Victoria yesterday."
"That," said Alton grimly, "was wise of him."
They went out, and the lad glanced at his companion. "It is of the least importance. There is more to be done!"
"Yes," said Alton simply. "You have my sympathy, Jack, but just now I can't do with too much of you. Go right away—to anywhere, and don't come back until you're wanted. I've got to think how I can best do the thing that's right to everybody."