"None that didn't pay before he left--and none that
seemed particularly grateful anyhow. Well, I must be off. The thousand's
all right, wherever it came from, eh? And I want to get back to Van. I'd
put that draft in the fire rather than go back to find the slightest
slip in his case. I think, if I should, I'd lose my nerve at last."
CHAPTER XII
THE TRUTH ABOUT SUSQUEHANNA
Jordan King, directing his car with necessary caution through the
traffic of a small but crowded city, two hundred miles from home,
suddenly threw out his clutch and jammed his brakes into urgent use.
Beside him Aleck, flinging out a hasty arm to warn drivers pressing
closely behind, gazed at his employer in wonder. There was absolutely
nothing to stop them, and an autocratic crossing policeman just ahead
was impatiently waving them forward.
But King, his eyes apparently following something or some one in the
throng, which had just negotiated the crossing of the street at right
angles to his own direction, spoke hurriedly: "Turn to the right here,
Aleck, and wait for me at the first spot down that street where they'll
let you stop."
He was out of the car and off at a dangerous slant through the
procession of moving vehicles, dodging past great trucks and slipping by
the noses of touring cars and coupes with apparent recklessness of
consequences.
Aleck, sliding into the driver's seat and forced to lose sight of
King's tall figure because of the urgency of the crowding mass behind,
was moved to curious speculation.
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