“You were fired from your last job. You’re in wrong with the police. You adopted a disguise and told lies about Winifred to those who would employ her. What chance have you of getting back into your trade, even if you’d be satisfied with it after having lived like a plute for weeks?”
“That goes,” said Fowle, waving his pipe.
“You’d like to hand one to that fellow Carshaw?”
“Wouldn’t I!”
“Yet you kick like a steer when I offer you the girl, a soft, well-paid job, and the worst revenge you can take on Carshaw.”
“Yes, all damn fine. But the risk—the infernal risk!”
“That’s where I don’t agree with you. You go away with her and her father—”
“Father! You’re not her father!”
“You should be the first to believe it. Her aunt will swear it to you or to any judge in the country. Once out of the United States, she will be only too glad to avail herself of the protection matrimony is supposed to offer. What are you afraid of?”