“I fancy that won’t be difficult, if he has it with him.”
“He has,” Millard affirmed. “He must have cleared more than half a million, they tell me at Headquarters, and they’ve proved that he didn’t dispose of any of it here. Think of it! Half a million in cash! I wonder how he planned to explain it to the custom’s officials on the other side?”
“He could stow it about him, I suppose,” Storm responded absently. “If he had laid his plans carefully and believed himself immune from suspicion he would have no reason to anticipate a personal search. What on earth were you doing at Headquarters?”
Millard squirmed uneasily.
“We-ell, when all this racket came out about Du Chainat I felt that it was my duty to go down and tell all I knew about the fellow. In the course of justice, you know, old chap——”
“Precisely,” Storm grinned. “You had rather identified yourself with him, hadn’t you? I don’t blame you for clearing your own skirts. It would be deucedly awkward for you if some of these people you presented him to——”
“Don’t!” protested Millard. “How was I to know? He came to me with a forged letter purporting to be from Harry Wheeler, of Boston. I haven’t seen Harry in years; wouldn’t know his handwriting from Adam, but it looked all right. When I explained, they understood the situation immediately at Headquarters, I assure you.”
“Don’t ‘assure’ me, Millard; I know you!” Storm laughed; then his face sobered. “How is everyone out at the Country Club?”
“Fine!” Millard waxed enthusiastic at the welcome change of topic. “We’ve taken on some more members; a new family or two from out Summit View way, and a most attractive widow. We talk of you a lot, Storm. You can’t think what a gap your poor wife’s death and your leaving us has made in the community! She was a wonderful little woman! You’ve no idea how she is missed.”
“I think I have,” Storm responded quietly.