" He choked out the confession with the
recklessness of final despair.
"So?" she said, with another short laugh. Then she resumed her even,
tired monotone: "Your little friend Cooley's note this morning gave us
all a rather fair notion as to what you must be thinkin' of us. He seems
to have found a sort of walkin' 'Who's-Who-on-the-Continent' since last
night. Pity for some people he didn't find it before! I don't think I'm
sympathetic with your little Cooley. I 'guess,' as you Yankees say, 'he
can stand it.' But"--her voice suddenly became louder--"I'm not in the
business of robbin' babies and orphans, no, my dear friends, nor of
helpin' anybody else to rob them either!--Here you are!"
She thrust into his hand a small packet, securely wrapped in paper and
fastened with rubber bands. "There's your block of express checks for
six hundred dollars and your I O U to Sneyd with it. Take better care of
it next time."
He had been tremulous enough, but at that his whole body began to shake
violently.
"_What_!" he quavered.
"I say, take better care of it next time," she said, dropping again into
her monotone.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90