"He showed his hand once," said Pen. "In offering that reward. Your going away on a trip was the one thing he couldn't have foreseen. It has upset all his calculations."
"The reward aroused my suspicions," said Don. "But it's not evidence."
"We'll get evidence."
"We're up against it all right," said Don harshly. "What is known as the Riever group in New York controls a billion dollars, I guess."
"Then you're satisfied that I was right, aren't you?" asked Pen.
"How do you mean?"
"If you gave yourself up you'd be playing directly into Riever's hands."
Don dropped his head between his hands. "You're right!" he groaned. "But good God! how am I going to stand it!"
Poor Pen! Her breast yearned over him; her arms ached to enfold him. But she could only sit there like a wooden woman, staring at the ground. There was nothing she could have said which would not have been a mockery.
He said at last: "I ought to be in New York."