“Only to square her with money, to get her away to the rendezvous in Paris, or to see her safely in hiding among the French déclassées
here till she can sneak away. Then I’ll remove the paper, and after that take the first steamer and seek safety and revenge!
“I can get a steerage suite at Hoboken. There are several steamers to-morrow morning. No one will know, and I’ve money enough left for a whole year.” He felt for the twenty bills of a thousand dollars each which he had held back from the check begged from Garston. A legacy of unsuspected shame!
Tired and wearied, he returned again and again to his brandy flask. And then his head dropped and his cigar fell from his hand as he dropped into a half-drunken stupor.
He awoke at a slight noise and raised his head. He fixed his glazed eyes on the door.
“She is coming!” he muttered. “I’ll get the paper out now, and all will be ready for a start.”
With a knife, he sprang back the loose plating from the door frame.
Standing on a chair, he had already grasped the paper in his trembling hand when the door suddenly gave way with a crash, and three burly men leaped into the room.
He sprang to the floor, but strong arms seized him.
For the first time in his life, Harold Vreeland felt the snapping of handcuffs. “The jig is up!” cried Daly, facing the astounded culprit.