“Are you going to bring any charge against me?” whimpered T. Burton Potter. “Or may I go?”
“I know you are a crook, Potter. But in this case I recognize that you were led into mischief by stronger wills than your own. Your attempt to defraud Howard Milmarsh of his rights would mean, perhaps, ten years in Sing Sing if the charge were pressed. But you helped me find the right man at last, and I believe you are really sorry for what you have done.”
“Yes. And——”
“Get out of this house,” interrupted Nick. “The same advice I gave to Andrew Lampton applies to you. Lose no time in jumping over the line into Canada. You may escape that way. It is your own lookout. Go, and may you lead a better life in future.”
“I will!” returned T. Burton Potter earnestly. “I have had such a scare this time that I’m through with crookedness for all time.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“You bet it’s true,” insisted Potter, as he hurried from the room.
“It seems to me that you’re letting all the crooks get away, chief,” protested Chick mildly. “I think both Potter and Lampton ought to have been handed over to the police, with Powers.”
“Strictly speaking, according to the law, I suppose they should,” conceded the chief. “But I have to consider Howard Milmarsh. He has recovered his senses, it is true—thanks to that bottle over there—but it will be some time before it will be safe to put him through another mental strain.”
“I guess you’re right.”