Wilkinson gave him a look of withering scorn, and measuring his words carefully, declared:
"I'll never be locked up, Morehead, again—anywhere. I told you once, and I tell you now for all time, that they'll never get Peter V. Wilkinson again behind the bars."
Colonel Morehead made no comment, but favoured him with an enigmatical smile. After a moment or two, he went on to explain that if Wilkinson had kept quiet they could have hunted up some of his friends and had the thing fixed up in forty-eight hours; that now, after what had happened, everybody, and especially Ougheltree and the Morning Mail, would know that he had this money tucked away somewhere; and that before long they'd find out where the rest of it was, concluding with: "Somebody'll get it, Wilkinson—they'll get at it."
Wilkinson resented, with a shrug of the shoulders, this interference with what he considered his business, and made no answer. But turning to Leslie, he said irritably:
"Leslie, just put your name on the back of these things, will you. The surety company is waiting for them."
Leslie's face showed a peculiar change; and she turned the certificates over to read them before attaching her signature.
"Half a million more!" she gasped. "Why, I don't own that much, father. They can't be mine to sign away, can they?"
"Do as I tell you," ordered her father, gruffly, taking them out of her hand and turning them face down. "Sign your name on the back of every one of them." And when she had done so, he said to a waiting messenger: "There, now, Surety Company, fork over that new bond." And motioning to Morehead: "Call Leech—there's his bail."