“I think I can.”
“I won’t be bled, Abner Kellogg!”
“No; you prefer to bleed others.”
“You insolent pettifogger! What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I want another hundred dollars—before I make a single move in this case.”
While she sat glaring at him an automobile stopped in the road before the house. The woman turned her head and through the window saw Phoebe Daring, Mr. Spaythe and a stranger alight and enter the gate.
“Tell ’em I ain’t at home, Kellogg,” she exclaimed in a half frightened voice.
“Better face the music,” said the lawyer, who had noted the arrivals. “If there’s danger, as I suspect, face it boldly. You can’t save the day by running away.”
“You stand by me, then, Kellogg. I’ll give you the other hundred when they’re gone.”
He smiled grimly, but there was no time for reply. The bell rang and Mrs. Ritchie went to the door.