“That you clearly understand that your life would be the forfeit of any treachery. I must reach that girl. I am playing a game to the bitter end. And you do not know what a foe that sleek woman can be.”
“All right,” said the young man, extending his hand. “The future will show you what I am. We must take the risks together.”
“I will give you half in cash, the balance in stocks, and I’ll hand the check for the cash over now,” said Garston, as he laid his revolver on the table.
“Now, sir, let me see that girl’s picture. Tell me where she is, and I’ll sign the check.”
His eyes were wolfish as Vreeland silently handed him the photograph of the girl who had never known a father’s love. The young man began his cool recital:
“The girl sailed from Philadelphia for Europe three weeks ago on the steamer ‘Excelsior,’ under the assumed name of Alice Montgomery, with Sara Conyers, the artist sister of the Clarion’s sub-editor, Hugh Conyers. She was hidden away here in New York under the name of Romaine Garland, and old Endicott, Conyers and the sister have smuggled the girl quietly away from Lakemere. The two women are now at the ‘Hotel Royal Victoria’ at Lucerne, and Hugh Conyers and Endicott are watching every move that you make.”
A ferocious gleam lit up the Senator’s eyes. He signed the check and passed it over to Vreeland. “I can handle both of them easily,” he growled.
“Tell me the whole story now,” he said, leaning back with an air of exquisite delight. “My money will do the rest. I’ll get to her easy enough.”
“You’ll have to work quickly then,” answered Vreeland, “for Elaine Willoughby has stolen away on an ostensible trip around the world via Japan, but really to meet the girl and her train. There was a private guard who went with the two women. My detective recognized him, and the bodyguard is a cool and dangerous man, too.” The Senator’s brow was blackened with a ferocious scowl.
“Damnation, she is clever,” cried Garston. “I wanted the daughter in this country, for I can not quickly use foreign laws, and any open violence, of course, would be madness. Tell me the whole story. I must be at work at once. It is a serious matter; I must think it over.”