"Not if it's a million dollars. Murgatroyd, this man has got to rely upon his daughter's money," he pleaded. "We couldn't raise a million dollars in a month."
"Yes we can," snapped Wilkinson, the cold sweat standing out on his forehead. "We can raise twice that in an hour."
There was an interval of silence in which Morehead tried to look unconcerned, and Murgatroyd winked at Leech.
"I thought he had it somewhere," whispered the District Attorney to his assistant.
With this proof before him that he was standing in the presence of a man far from bankrupt, Leech became doubly attentive.
"I think I can accommodate Mr. Wilkinson in my private office until five o'clock," he suggested smoothly. "Two officers can remain on guard outside, Chief. Is that all right?"
Murgatroyd nodded a tentative assent before saying:
"Come, Colonel, and we'll see the Judge...."
And an hour and a half later the bail had been fixed and matters arranged by Morehead and his colleagues with the surety company. But when the Colonel was back again in Leech's private office, he whispered to Wilkinson:
"Where's your nerve, you confounded idiot! Now you've given the whole thing away! If you'd gone back to the Tombs for a few days longer...."