"Peter V. Wilkinson, I suppose?"
"Precisely," returned the Colonel, and was starting on.
"One moment, Counsellor," went on the deputy, detaining him. "You an' me is old friends, and I don't want to hurt your feelings. But I have been warned by Murgatroyd. The District Attorney is most particular about this case." And a curious expression crossed his face, as he added: "You must admit, Counsellor, that we don't often have a guy locked up here—worth millions and charged with larceny, forgery and perjury, all at once, and who's waitin' for three-quarters of a million bail."
"No, it isn't an everyday occurrence, I acknowledge. Now, will you bring him down, or shall I go up to him?"
Again the deputy shook his head.
"Counsellor, District Attorney Murgatroyd says be careful, and I got to, even with an old friend like you. If there's any attempt at an escape,—and a man who's said to be worth millions and wants to get out of jail—well, sometimes, locks will turn and bars will break. I don't know that it would take so many millions to——"
Colonel Morehead looked straight into the eyes of big Bill Steen, with that confidential look which had won him many juries.
"Bill," he said, under his breath, "suppose he wasn't worth millions—only a fraction of a million! And suppose he couldn't get bail! How much would you take, Bill, to let him go? How much? A hundred thousand, two hundred, a quarter of a million? Come—say the word."
The deputy indignantly drew away.
"Counsellor," he protested, "you couldn't touch me with ten million. I wouldn't let him off for that."