"Chief?"
"You have not met him as yet. We conferred about your scheme. He—I regret to say—opposed it."
Hugo nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'll tell you what to do. You take me to him—and I'll prove conclusively that it will be successful. Then, perhaps, he will agree to sanction it. Every time I think of those two poor devils—snatched from a mob—waiting there in the dark for the electric chair—it makes my blood boil."
"Quite," Skorvsky agreed. "But you do not understand. It is not that he doubts your ability—if you failed it would not be important. He fears you might accomplish it. I assured him you would. I have faith in you."
"He's afraid I would do it? That doesn't make sense, Skorvsky."
"It does, I regret to say." His expressive face stirred with discomfort. "We were too hasty, too precipitate. I see his reason now. We cannot afford as a group to be branded as jail-breakers."
"That's—weak," Hugo said.
Skorvsky cleared his throat. "There are other matters. Since Davidoff and Pletzky were jailed, the party has grown by leaps and bounds. Money has poured in—"
"Ah," Hugo said softly, "money."
Skorvsky raged. "Go ahead. Be sarcastic. To free those men would cost us a million dollars, perhaps."