They lingered at the door of the big house. The body-guard was waiting off in the drive with his back discreetly turned. Riever took enormous encouragement from the fact that Pen did not try to hurry away from him.
"What are your plans?" she murmured.
"We'll weigh anchor early to-morrow," Riever said, "and steam to Annapolis where I will obtain the necessary extradition papers. Then I'll have Counsell sent North by train. Before nightfall to-morrow he'll be lodged safe in the Tombs."
"The Tombs?"
"The New York City prison."
Pen blushed crimson in the dark but doggedly forced herself to bring out the words: "But ... how about ... what you promised me..."
Riever laughed. It had an unpleasant ring, though he probably meant it good-naturedly enough. "What a funny girl you are! Anxious about your thirty pieces of silver, eh? Don't worry! I'll see you in the morning before I go."
Pen was obliged to let it go at that, though it was with a sickening anxiety.
Riever's voice thickened again. "You've quieted down now," he murmured. "You're not going to let me go like this..."
Pen's hands went up again, but he caught her roughly to him. He could not reach her face. He pressed a burning kiss on her neck. Pen tore herself away, and ran shudderingly to her room.