“Where is the other lad?” he asked. “I hope you haven’t let him get away.”
Bogle briefly told the sad story. Raikes was visibly affected.
“I’m sorry it happened,” he said. “I didn’t want any bloodshed to be mixed up in this affair. Still, it was an accident, and the lad was to blame himself. We’ll have to explain to Glendale that he escaped, and could not be found. You see, I told him that we had three prisoners to turn over instead of one.”
“Then you have really made a success of your errand, Silas?” asked Bogle.
Raikes smiled as he took a deep draught of coffee, and attacked the food on his plate.
“I couldn’t have done better,” he replied. “Everything is fixed, and there is no danger of a slip. It took two or three days’ work to bring Glendale to terms. He was pugnacious at first, and used some pretty rough language—talked about the police, and all that sort of thing. I told him to go ahead, and he saw that I couldn’t be bluffed or scared off. After I convinced him that the lad’s life depended on the payment of the money he came down gracefully.”
“Did he cable to France?” asked Bogle.
“No; it wasn’t necessary. He had money at his disposal, and he didn’t want to alarm the lad’s parents. The long and short of it is that Mr. Frederick Glendale is now quartered at a tavern in Wytopitlock, and he has with him the sum of fifteen thousand dollars in banknotes.”
Sparwlck and Bogle fairly gasped for breath. Their eyes and flushed faces showed how excited they were.
“Five thousand apiece!” muttered Sparwick. “It’s a fortune.”