"You're thinking of paying it?" he asked, incredulously.
"I want to know why you think it can't be arranged?" she repeated.
"The danger of detection. No bank would pay a check for that amount to
an unknown party, without the personal advice of the drawer."
"Not if it were made payable to self, and properly indorsed for
identification?"
"I fear not."
"You can try it--there's no harm in trying. You have a bank that knows
you?"
"But scarcely for such large amounts."
"What of it? You deposit the check for collection only. They will send
it through. When it's paid, they will pay you. If it's not paid, there
is no harm done--and we are still your prisoners. You stand to win
everything and lose nothing."
The man looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"The check will be paid?" he asked, presently.
"If it isn't paid, you still have us," said Elaine.
"It might be managed."
"That is your part. If the check is presented, it will be paid--you may
rest easy, on that score."
Jones resumed his contemplation of the ceiling.
"But remember," she cautioned, "when it is paid, we are to be released,
instantly. No holding us for Mr. Croyden to pay, also. If we play
square with you, you must play square with us. I risk a fortune, see
that you make good."
"Your check--it should be one of the sort you always use----"
"I always carry a few blank checks in my handbag--and fortunately, I
have it with me. You were careful to wrap it in with my arms. I will
get it."
She went into her room. In a moment she returned, the blank check in
her fingers, and handed it to him. It was of a delicate robin's-egg
blue, with "The Tuscarora Trust Company" printed across the face in a
darker shade, and her monogram, in gold, at the upper end.
"Is it sufficiently individual to raise a presumption of regularity?"
she said.
"Undoubtedly!" he answered.
"Then, let us understand each other," she said.
"By all means," he agreed.
"I give you my check for two hundred thousand dollars, duly executed,
payable to my order, and endorsed by me, which, when paid, you, on
behalf of your associates and yourself, engage to accept in lieu of the
amount demanded from Mr. Croyden, and to release Miss Carrington and
myself forthwith."
"There is one thing more," he said. "You, on your part, are to
stipulate that no attempt will be made to arrest us."
"We will engage that _we_ will do nothing to apprehend you."
"Directly or indirectly?" he questioned.
"Yes!--more than that is not in our power. You will have to assume the
general risk you took when you abducted us."
"We will take it," was the quiet answer.
"Is there anything else?" she asked.
"I think not--at least, everything is entirely satisfactory to us."
"Despite the fact that it couldn't be made so!" she smiled.
"I didn't know we had to deal with a woman of such business sense
and--wealth," he answered gallantly.
She smiled. "If you will get me ink and pen, I will sign the check,"
she said.
She filled it in for the amount specified, signed and endorsed it. Then
she took, from her handbag, a correspondence card, embossed with her
initials, and wrote this note:
"Hampton, Md.
"Nov. --'10.
"My dear Mr. Thompson:--
"I have made a purchase, down here, and my check for Two Hundred
Thousand dollars, in consideration, will come through, at once.
Please see that it is paid, promptly.
"Yours very sincerely,
"Elaine Cavendish.
"To James Thompson, Esq'r., "Treasurer, The Tuscarora Trust Co.,
"Northumberland."
She addressed the envelope and passed it and the card across to Mr.
Jones, together with the check.
"If you will mail this, to-night, it will provide against any chance of
non-payment," she said.
"You are a marvel of accuracy," he answered, with a bow. "I would I
could always do business with you."
"At two hundred thousand the time? No! no! monsieur, I pray thee, no
more!"
There was a knock on the door; the maid entered and spoke in a low tone
to Jones. He nodded.
"I am sorry to inconvenience you again," he said, turning to them, "but
I must trouble you to go aboard the tug."
"The tug--on the water?" Elaine exclaimed.
"On the water--that is usually the place for well behaved tugs!" he
laughed.
"Now!" Elaine persisted.
"Now--before I go to deposit the check!" he smiled. "You will be safer
on the tug. There will be no danger of an escape or a rescue--and it
won't be for long, I trust."
"Your trust is no greater than ours, I assure you," said Elaine.
Their few things were quickly gathered, and they went down to the
wharf, where a small boat was drawn up ready to take them to the tug,
which was lying a short distance out in the Bay.
"One of the Baltimore tugs, likely," said Davila. "There are scores of
them, there, and some are none too chary about the sort of business
they are employed in."
"Witness the present!" commented Elaine.
They got aboard without accident. Jones conducted them to the little
cabin, which they were to occupy together--an upper and a lower bunk
having been provided.
"The maid will sleep in the galley," said he. "She will look after the
cooking, and you will dine in the small cabin next to this one. It's a
bit contracted quarters for you, and I'm sorry, but it won't be for
long--as we both trust, Miss Cavendish."
"And you?" asked Elaine.
"I go to deposit the check. I will have my bank send it direct for
collection, with instructions to wire immediately if paid. I presume
you don't wish it to go through the ordinary course."
"Most assuredly not!" Elaine answered.
"This is Thursday," said Jones. "The check, and your note, should reach
the Trust Company in the same mail to-morrow morning; they can be
depended upon to wire promptly, I presume?"
"Undoubtedly!"
"Then, we may be able to release you to-morrow night, certainly by
Saturday."
"It can't come too soon for us."
"You don't seem to like our hospitality," Jones observed.
"It's excellent of its sort, but we don't fancy the sort--you
understand, monsieur. And then, too, it is frightfully expensive."
"We have done the best we could under the circumstances," he smiled.
"Until Saturday at the latest--meanwhile, permit me to offer you a very
hopeful farewell."
Elaine smiled sweetly, and Mr. Jones went out.
"Why do you treat him so amiably?" Davila asked. "I couldn't, if I
would."
"Policy," Elaine answered. "We get on better. It wouldn't help our case
to be sullen--and it might make it much worse. I would gladly shoot
him, and hurrah over it, too, as I fancy you would do, but it does no
good to show it, now--when we _can't_ shoot him."
"I suppose not," said Davila. "But I'm glad I don't have to play the
part." She hesitated a moment. "Elaine, I don't know how to thank you
for my freedom----"
"Wait until you have it!" the other laughed. "Though there isn't a
doubt of the check being paid."
"My grandfather, I know, will repay you with his entire fortune, but
that will be little----"
Elaine stopped her further words by placing a hand over her mouth, and
kissing her.
"That's quite enough, dear!" she said. "Take it that the reward is for
my release, and that you were just tossed in for good measure--or, that
it is a slight return for the pleasure of visiting you--or, that the
money is a small circumstance to me--or, that it is a trifling sum to
pay to be saved the embarrassment of proposing to Geoffrey,
myself--or, take it any way you like, only, don't bother your pretty
head an instant more about it. In the slang of the day: 'Forget it,'
completely and utterly, as a favor to me if for no other reason."
"I'll promise to forget it--until we're free," agreed Davila.
"And, in the meantime, let us have a look around this old boat," said
Elaine. "You're nearer the door, will you open it? Two can't pass in
this room."
Davila tried the door--it refused to open.
"It's locked!" she said.
"Oh, well! we will content ourselves with watching the Bay through the
port hole, and when one wants to turn around the other can crawl up in
her bunk. I'm going to write a book about this experience, some
time.--I wonder what Geoffrey and Colin are doing?" she
laughed--"running around like mad and stirring up the country, I
reckon."