Into his private sanctum he walked or rather dragged himself, and wearily he sat down. He pushed a pile of papers from him and ran his hand over his hot brow.
Blood pounded at his temples.
For the first time in his life he faced a situation which was too deep for his understanding.
Over and over again he reviewed the uncanny events as Lees sat awaiting orders.
"I cannot have them killing off my friends like that," he mused finally.
He called a clerk.
"Go to the bank and get $200,000 in fifties and one hundreds," he commanded.
When the clerk returned with the money he laid the package on his desk and left the desk open. "This might appear cowardly, but it will give us time," he said. Lees did not offer an opinion.
Ferguson drew a personal note for $200,000 and sent it to the Schefert Corporation's attorneys. This amount represented a large part of Ferguson's personal assets, not involved with any company with which he was connected. He told Lees to go about his further investigations. Then he left the office and started for his home. "I'll bank my life Lees will have those crooks lined up within a week," he assured himself as he lolled in his auto, bound homeward. But his voice sounded hollow, and the blood still pounded at his temples.