“What do you say to a little stroll, Jack, before we hit the hay?” he asked with a studied carelessness. “Not a long one, for I know you must be tired after traveling all day; but I don’t sleep very well unless I get a bit of fresh air just before I turn in.”
Breathlessly he watched the other. What if Horton should suggest that he go alone? What if——?
“I’m with you.” Horton rose equably. “We must be smoked up like a couple of hams.”
He reached out a hand for his pistol, but Storm stopped him with a nervous laugh.
“Here! There’s a Sullivan law in this town against carrying concealed weapons! You don’t want that thing with you; put it in the table drawer there.”
“All right.” Horton opened the drawer and then hesitated. “The money! There have been hold-ups on the Drive. I’ve read of them——”
“Good Lord, you weren’t going to cart that bag along, were your” Storm’s tone was a perfect blend of amusement and good-natured expostulation. “Why, man, we’ll only be gone ten minutes, fifteen at most! Lock it up again in the closet; no one is going to break in here!”
Horton shook his head obstinately.
“I never leave it out of my sight when I’m on the job,” he said. “You never can tell, you know, Norman.”
“I suppose some sneak thief is clairvoyant enough to know that money is here to-night of all nights, in a bag in a locked closet!” Storm shrugged. “Camouflage it behind some hat boxes and things on the shelf if you like. I tell you we’ll only be gone a few minutes, and the watchman is right outside.”