As he spoke he knocked the ash from the cigar which he had just lighted and a few flecks fell upon his host’s knee. Storm brushed them off with a quick gesture of loathing. Ashes! God, could there be something prophetic in Millard’s words?
He leaned forward in his chair.
“Look here, what have you got up your sleeve?” he demanded. “The bet goes as it lays, but I hope you haven’t been letting them jolly you at Headquarters into believing that you are coming out an easy winner. They always pretend secret progress when they are stalled on a case, and they are at a deadlock now.”
“Deadlock, nothing!” Millard crowed, his caution forgotten at the jibe. “That’s what the chaps who did for Horton are thinking right now, but just wait till they try to pass one of those bills from the wad they stole!”
“Why?” Storm was not conscious that he had spoken, that he was clutching the table edge in a grip that embedded his nails in the cloth.
“Why? Because their numbers have been flashed all over the United States; the Chief of Police in every big city has been warned to be on the lookout for them, and long before the scoundrels can reach another country, provided they succeed in getting out of this one, the news will have preceded them!” Millard waved his pudgy hands excitedly. “You didn’t suppose they would give the bills out to Horton at the trust company without jotting down the numbers in case of error or accident, did you? It really wasn’t sporting of me to bet on a sure thing; but do you think now that your man has a chance of getting away with the money?”
“Millard, you’re going to win!” It was George who spoke, and firm conviction rang in his tones.
“Win? Hah!” Millard sat back in his chair. “The minute one of those bills makes its appearance, the man who offers it will be held for murder!”
Chapter XXI.
The Unconsidered Trifle
Baffled fury that was half despair swept over Storm at Millard’s words, but he controlled himself by a mighty effort. More vital than at any moment in the past was his need now of quick, coherent thought, and he forced himself to rise above the crushing blow. The bills were numbered and traceable! He should have thought of that! But the gold! The gold!