"And, Felton, my friend," said Braine softly—he always spoke softly when he was in a deadly humor—"Felton, you slept on duty the other night. Hargreave stole up, consulted Jones, and got away after knocking me down. The next failure will mean short shift. Be warned!"
"I saw only you, sir. So help me. I was not asleep. I saw you run down the street after the taxicab. I did not see any one else."
Braine shrugged. "Remember what I said."
Felton bowed respectfully and made his exit. He wished in his soul that he might some day catch the master mind free of his eternal mask. It was an iron hand which ruled them and there were friends of his (Felton's) who had mysteriously vanished after a brief period of rebellion. The boss was a swell; probably belonged to clubs and society which he adroitly pilfered. The organization always had money. Whenever there was a desperate job to be undertaken, Vroon simply poured out the money necessary to promote it. Whenever Braine and Vroon became engaged in earnest conversation they talked Slav. Braine was never called by name here; the boss, simply that.
Well, ten per cent. of a million was a hundred thousand. This would be equally divided between the second ten of the Black Hundred. Another ten per cent. would go to eighty members; the balance would be divided between Vroon and the boss. But his soul rebelled at being ordered about like so much dirt under another man's feet. He would take his ten thousand and make the grand getaway.
The next afternoon the countess called upon Florence. Nothing was said about the adventure, and this fact created a vague unrest in the scheming woman's mind. She realized that she must play her cards more carefully than ever. Not the least distrust must be permitted to enter the child's head. Once that happened good-by to the wonderful emeralds. Was it that she really craved the stone? Was it not rather a venom acquired from the knowledge that this child's mother had won what she herself, with all her cleverness, was not sure of—Braine's love? Did he really care for her or was she only the cats-paw to pluck his hot chestnuts from the fire?
When Florence showed her the "personal," her vague doubts became instantly dissipated. The child would not have shown her the newspaper had there been any distrust on her part.
"My child, your father is alive, then?" animatedly.
"We don't know," sadly.
"Why, I should say that this proves it."