No wonder, too, that later, after George had returned to town, when he telephoned to Storm that Potter’s rooms were to be vacant, he had required little urging to escape from the scene of his unspeakable crime! No wonder that he had said it was “hell” at Greenlea!
The consciousness of the undeserved fate which he had visited upon the woman who at the altar had placed her life in his keeping must have driven him all but mad!
And yet how quickly his conscience, if he had ever possessed one, had died in the quick fire of his egotism at the ease with which he had evaded justice! George recalled his wild talk about crime; how a man could do anything and get away with it if he only had brains enough. His remorse had been swallowed up by his malevolent, distorted pride of achievement.
How easy it was now to trace the subsequent steps! The constantly reiterated condolences of his acquaintances on every hand must have driven him to frenzy; and then had come the chance of miraculous wealth through Du Chainat, for Griffiths must have been right. A lawyer of his brains and reputation would not have referred to it unless he had seen the virtual proof, and George remembered the skepticism with which he had received Storm’s hasty denial.
Storm had staked his all on the chance, and lost! Then, hounded by guilty memories and desperate, he had encountered Horton, and the rest was explained.
But the money! Where could it be? Having risked so much for it, he would scarcely be likely to leave it out of his immediate possession, and a bag full of money——
The valise upstairs! The obviously heavy valise which he would not permit George to touch, which no one else must carry but himself!——Leila’s letters? George’s lip curled in bitter self-scorn. How credulous he had been!
Storm must have intended to secrete the money here about the house somewhere until their return from the fishing trip and then make his getaway. But why had he so suddenly changed his mind and evinced willingness to go on the trip at all? Was it to get out of sight and still keep in touch with the progress of the investigation until it had ceased through lack of further evidence to engage the activities of the police?
Or was it to get George himself away? Storm knew his theory; George cursed himself for his stupidity, his blindness! He had descanted at length upon his idea of the murder, and Storm, realizing how dangerously near the truth it was, may have planned to keep him out of mischief until the case was dropped.
But was that all he had planned? George stood still, stunned with the thought which came to him. Storm had killed two people and gotten away with it; why not a third? Why not George himself, if he suspected that George was likely to come upon the truth? The red trilogy!