“Under the conditions mentioned, of course,” said young Worthington. “But, nevertheless, it’s a mighty generous offer. The conditions are ridiculously easy, Dallas. I’m sure Jake will make a mighty good husband, and you’d never regret marrying him. He’s very much in love with you. He’s done nothing but talk about you ever since I’ve known him. He’s just crazy about you.”
“And I suppose,” said Dallas scornfully, “it was he who suggested that you send me that mysterious and startling letter which brought me to Chicago without letting a single person in New York—not even my employer—know about it? Yes, I am quite sure that is some of Mr. Hines’ work. If I had suspected for a minute that I should find him here, Chester, I wouldn’t have changed my mind after writing you that I couldn’t come to you.”
“Ah,” said Owen to himself, “so she wrote to her brother telling him that she couldn’t come to him, and then she changed her mind. That, of course, must have been the letter which she tried to get out of the mail, and, by an unfortunate mistake, got the Reverend Doctor Moore’s pink envelope, with its hundred-dollar inclosure, instead.”
Owen disliked to play the rôle of eavesdropper, but he couldn’t help waiting a little longer outside that door before making his presence known to the occupants of the room. He wanted his entry to come as a startling climax to one of Mr. Hines’ little speeches.
He did not have long to wait. “Well, Dallas,” he heard Hines exclaim, suddenly assuming a bullying tone, “it’s no use havin’ any more argument about this matter. I hold all the cards in this game. I know very well that you ain’t the kind of girl to let your brother go to jail when it lies in your power to save him; so you’ve got to accept my proposition whether you like it or not. As I told you once before, when Jake Hines wants a thing bad he generally manages to get it. You know—— Hello!”
His little, beady eyes opened wide with astonishment and alarm as the door suddenly flew open, and Post-office Inspector Owen Sheridan stepped into the room.
“Well, for the love of Mike!” gasped Jake, and as he spoke he fell back a step, and his right hand moved toward his hip pocket.
Owen did not fail to grasp the significance of this gesture. “Keep your hands in front of you, Hines,” he said quietly. “It’s no use. I’ve got you covered.”
Owen’s right hand was thrust within the side pocket of his coat. The pocket bulged as though it might contain something else besides the hand. Hines noted that bulge, and obediently kept his hands in front of him.
“Got me covered, have you?” he grunted. “Well, I’m from Missouri. You gotter show me. I’ve heard of that bluff bein’ pulled off before now with a pipe or a nail file.”