There was something about that money which impressed him with the sincerity of Mr. Breed's belief in his own cause. The young man grew visibly white around the mouth.
“I'll see you later, Breed,” he gulped. “I don't believe you know what you are talking about—but I'm not national bank on legs. I'll be around and cover your cash.”
He went back into the bar, swallowed a glass of whisky, and went out and hailed a cab. He directed the driver to carry him to the Trelawny Apartment.
Mrs. Kilgour admitted him to the vestibule of the suite.
“Is Kate at home?” he demanded.
“Yes, Richard!” She shrank away from him, for his aspect was not reassuring. “You know—she has given up her work—she is—”
“I know all about it, Mrs. Kilgour. But I want to ask you whether she has given up her work in order to marry me at once?”
“Why, I—She said—I think it will come about all right, Dicky.” She was pitifully unnerved.
“Have you told her why she must marry me?”
“It is not time to tell her—it is not right—I can't—”