“You are to keep away from the warehouse for the present,” said Gault peremptorily.
“I have read the inventory,” said Moale. “There are ten black fox skins of the first quality. I have never seen so many at one time. Those alone will bring from a thousand to fifteen hundred each. Besides the silver and the cross foxes; the mink, otter and fisher. The whole lot is worth well above a hundred thousand at present prices.”
“Quite that,” said Gault. “But I’m playing for a bigger stake, and I don’t intend to jeopardize it by making any premature move.”
“How much is the girl worth?” asked Moale slyly.
“I don’t know,” said the other coolly.
Moale lowered his eyes; he knew very well that Gault was lying; but did not care to let him see that he knew. Presently he said: “The news of Blackburn’s death will be all over by now. That fool Etzooah let it out at our post before I could stop his mouth. And Conacher carried the news north with him.”
“I had no thought of keeping it secret,” said Gault.
“How about Gruber, then? If you keep him waiting too long at the Crossing, he’s likely to come down here to see what’s up.”
“I’ve written to Gruber telling him that if he will wait a few weeks, I’ll send him the fur as soon as I can arrange matters.”
“Maybe that letter won’t satisfy him.”