“Is this right?” asked Van Curter, slipping a couple of gold pieces into his hand.
“Double it,” said the other, shortly. The commandant obeyed. Boston clinked the pieces upon the floor, tried them with his teeth, and, being satisfied that they were good, put them in his pouch and turned to the commandant.
“That is the right argument. What do you want?”
“Did Barlow send any message to my daughter?”
“Y-a-a-s, he did.”
“Have you got it?”
“Not in writin’.”
“What did he say?”
“Assured her that he was hers till death.”