“But I am,” Storm said slowly. Millard’s suggestion was at once a challenge and temptation. The authorities, all unknowing, had become his natural enemies now. To enter their stronghold voluntarily, place himself in their hands and have them exploit for his benefit the very weapons which would be turned against him if they but dreamed of what he had done! No criminal of the century, of the ages, would have dared such a move! It would be a test, a secret test of his own strength, but it would be a triumph! “I am tremendously interested, Millard. In fact, I’d like nothing better. When can you arrange it?” Storm decided to make a bold test of himself.
“To-morrow, if you can spare an hour. Excuse me, and I’ll ’phone my friend there and find out the best time to take you through.” The other rose. “Funny business for two respectable, suburban golf enthusiasts like us to be poking our noses into the methods of crime detection, isn’t it? It is fascinating, though, as you’ll admit.”
While he was gone Storm sat back in his chair, a little smile playing about his mouth. By to-morrow, Horton’s body might have been found; by to-morrow, at any rate, the alarm would have been sent broadcast for him and the money which had been in his charge. To hear the affair discussed perhaps in his presence by these so-called experts; to watch the machinery in motion which was designed to reveal and crush him and to know that not in a thousand years would it attain its object, to face them all and laugh in his soul!
What a tremendous situation! He would have to guard himself carefully, more carefully than he had that morning; he had noted Millard’s look of surprise at his laughter when Du Chainat was mentioned; but Millard was an egregious ass, anyway, and there had been no need of restraining his amusement. What did he care about Du Chainat now? Was he not possessed of more than the latter had stolen from him, almost as much, in fact, as he had promised? Had he not gained it in one stroke by his own adroitness and nerve? Gad, but to-morrow would bring the rarest sport in the world!
“At four o’clock!” Millard bustled back to the table. “My friend is a high official there and it means open sesame all over the place. He says there is nothing very big on now since the Du Chainat affair went to the wall; but you never can tell when a sensational case is due, you know, and you’ll be interested in the workings of their system. Won’t you come out to Greenlea afterward with me for dinner? We can put you up for the night——”
Storm shook his head.
“No thanks, old man. I don’t feel quite up to the old surroundings just yet.” He did not have to inject the tremor in his tone. In the midst of his exultant thoughts the mention of Greenlea had brought back a thrill of the old horror, a sudden vision, clearer than it had come to him for days, of Leila lying there in the den as he had struck her down. God, would the memory of it never rest? That other blow struck in the dark only a few hours before seemed less real, less vivid, than the image which had been mirrored on his brain for the month past. Was he never to be free from it?—Never, he assured himself savagely, until he had cut absolutely adrift from all such as this blundering fool Millard, who kept dragging the past back and spreading it before him! Ah, well, the time would be short now . . .
“I understand how you feel, of course, Storm. Forgive me.” Millard nodded sympathetically. “Later on, perhaps, you’ll run out for a few days?”
“Perhaps.” The tremor was gone from his tones, and Storm’s face was inscrutable as he took leave of his garrulous companion after arranging a meeting for the following day. His thoughts had swerved back into the old, impatient, maddening channel. How soon could he get away? How long would it be before Horton’s death was established and the hue and cry for the lost money subsided?
There was no link connecting him, Norman Storm, with his classmate of twenty years before. There was no reason why he, his constitution impaired by grief over the accidental death of his wife, should not resign from his position at the trust company and go in search of forgetfulness and health on a long sea voyage since, as far as the world knew, he had ample means left from his father’s estate.