While one of the men stood near the door, as if to prevent any escape, the other moved warily toward Nash.
“Are you Elliot Nash?” he demanded.
“I am,” the engineer responded.
“Then I’m sorry to say I’ve a warrant here for your arrest.” As he spoke he drew back his coat, and Nash found himself looking upon a detective’s badge.
Nash only smiled, and looked across at the girl, who all this time had been standing weakly against the wall.
“I’m afraid you’re too late, gentlemen,” he announced. “I have already surrendered to Miss Breen.”
Both men looked toward the girl. Then the spokesman laughed, and nodded, apparently acquainted with her.
“Well, congratulations, Miss Breen,” he said. “You have got your nerve, haven’t you? Wanted all the honors in this deal, eh? Leave it to a woman every time,” he added, in an undertone.
Nash flashed a curious glance at the girl. He wondered how she would accept the situation, and he had not long to wait. She drew herself erect, and a trace of color stole into her cheeks.
“You may take Mr. Nash to the city with you,” she said, her voice never more calm. “I—I will appear against him in the morning. Good night, gentlemen.”