“Does he suspect your identity?” questioned Busby.
“No, not for a moment.”
“Or me?[Pg 25]”
“No, nor you,” Margate assured him. “You are out of it entirely.”
“Thank God for that,” Busby fervently exclaimed. “I should never have gone into the cursed job. It was too long a chance.”
“But having gone into it, Busby, you cannot safely back out,” Margate said curtly. “Besides, you ought not wish to, Busby, with a million or more at stake. As for it’s being a long chance—rats! No chance is too long for me to take. I’ll make good, too, in spite of Carter and all of his kennel.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
“Why were you so upset, then, when you entered?”
“I was mad with myself, disgusted with myself, for having been blinded by the infernal meddler,” Margate declared, with a growl. “I ought to have suspected it, ought to have known he would suspect me and serve me some crafty trick. Twice burned, one surely should fear the fire. I ought to have been on my guard. Listen. I’ll tell you what I overheard to-night.”