There was a sharp cry from Leslie, but Wilkinson gave no sign. He merely sniffed hopefully, for he smelled freedom in all this.
"Go on!" he commanded, ignoring the quivering palm that Leslie laid upon his hand.
"You've got to leave them all and never come back to them," continued the Colonel; and bending closer and lowering his voice to a whisper, he added: "Leave everything that you've got in the world, you understand?"
Wilkinson muttered an oath under his breath, for next to liberty his wealth was dear to him. In fact, he now arranged in his mind the relative importance of things: first, liberty—he must have that at any cost; second, the millions that he had stowed away; third, his daughter Leslie.
"Why have I got to leave them all?" he demanded, "and why never come back at all?"
"Because," said his counsel, "if you so much as plank down a ten-dollar bill for a railroad ticket after you disappear, you will be suspected. The county men, the police in other cities will be on the look-out for a man with money; they will not search the lodging-houses. You must not be caught. It takes nerve, but you've got to do it. You've got to say good-bye to everything."
There was a moment's silence; then Wilkinson answered:
"Where could I go?"
"Anywhere you like. Disappear. But don't buy a railroad ticket if you can help it. Don't try to leave the country, for if you do they'll get you. Don't do anything that a man with a roll of bills might do. Play the part of a tramp."