Part 33 (1/2)

”Before election,” said the professor, ”I believe he often insisted to you that he would do his duty as he saw it.”

”Of course he did,” replied Cargan. ”But that's what they all say.”

”He intends to keep his word.”

The mayor of Reuton slid into the shadows.

”To think he'd do this thing to me,” he whined. ”After all I've done for him.”

”As I was saying, Mr. Magee,” continued the professor, ”Mr. Kendrick and I came up here to secure this package of money as evidence against Cargan and--the man above. I speak with the voice of the law when I say you must turn this money over to me.”

For answer Magee smiled at the girl.

”You'd better go now,” he said. ”It's a long walk down the mountain.”

”You refuse?” cried the professor.

”Absolutely--don't we, Miss Norton?” said Magee.

”Absolutely,” she repeated bravely.

”Then, sir,” announced the old man crus.h.i.+ngly, ”you are little better than a thief, and this girl is your accomplice.”

”So it must look, on the face of it,” a.s.sented Magee. The girl moved to the big front door, and Magee, with his eyes still on the room, backed away until he stood beside her. He handed her his key.

”I give you,” he said, ”to the G.o.ds of the mountain. But it's only a loan--I shall surely want you back. I can't follow ten feet behind, as I threatened--it will be ten hours instead. Good night, and good luck.”

She turned the key in the lock.

”Billy Magee,” she whispered, ”yours is a faith beyond understanding. I shall tell the G.o.ds of the mountain that I am to be--returned. Good night, you--dear.”

She went out quickly, and Magee, locking the door after her, thrust the key into his pocket. For a moment no one stirred. Then Mr. Max leaped up and ran through the flickering light to the nearest window.

There was a flash, a report, and Max came back into the firelight examining a torn trousers leg.

”I don't mean to kill anybody,” explained Mr. Magee. ”Just to wing them.

But I'm not an expert--I might shoot higher than I intend. So I suggest that no one else try a break for it.”

”Mr. Magee,” said Miss Thornhill, ”I don't believe you have the slightest idea who that girl is, nor what she wants with the money.”

”That,” he replied, ”makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?”

”Do you mean--” the professor, exploded, ”you don't know her? Well, you young fool.”

”It's rather fine of you,” remarked Miss Thornhill.

”It's asinine, if it's true,” the professor voiced the other side of it.

”You have said yourself--or at least you claim to have said--” Mr. Magee reminded him, ”one girl like that is worth a million suffragettes.”