“No doubt of it.”
“There is one feature of the case,” added Nick, rather more grimly, “concerning which I am very much in the dark.”
“What is that, Nick?”
“How the dickens did Flood learn that Kendall was short at the bank?”
“By Jove! that’s strange.”
“I reckon we have not heard the last of the case, Chick, and that something serious may yet result from it. There is no evading one fact, however. Flood has a heart as big as that of an ox, since he would thus save a man for the sake of a girl he himself loves, instead of jealously knocking his pins from under him. In days to come I’ll not forget this in Moses Flood.”
The very next morning, which was sooner than Nick expected, his prediction concerning the outcome of the case was startlingly verified. He was seated with Chick in his office, about eight o’clock, when a district telegraph boy brought in a message. Nick tore it open and read it, then leaped involuntarily to his feet.
“What is it, Nick?” demanded Chick impulsively.
“The wages of sin is death!” cried Nick, with thrilling accents. “This message is from Dora Royal, asking me to come at once.”
“For what?”