They lapsed into silence for a brief moment. She went on, then.
“But to get back to the story,” she said. “After my father’s death we could discover no trace of his money or other personal property. There must have been a great deal of it, because he had no debts—he paid everything cash—and he had just sold his stables. Ignace thought there must have been half a million dollars, somewhere.”
“Do you think so?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Somewhere, my father has hidden away a great deal of money. As I said, he was a trifle queer in his last years—in fact, I think that on the subject of Ignace Teck and also on the subject of his money, he was unbalanced. He always had an idea that people wanted to take it from him—and he hid it in the most peculiar places; you know, like that ten thousand dollar bill you found. But the great bulk of it has not been uncovered, although we have looked almost everywhere. Frankly, I think it’s the money Ignace is after, more than he is desirous of marrying me, even. He and his gang⸺”
“His gang?”
“He’s an assistant district leader on the east side—he lives there in a shabby tenement when he’s in town—and he has men from the district who would do anything for him—commit robbery—murder, even⸺”
Val nodded his head. “Then you think poor old Mat Masterson⸺”
“Probably,” she acquiesced. “Oh, it is horrible to think of it!” she exclaimed. A shudder passed through her and her face grew white as death as the matter was recalled to her mind. “The bookseller had what Ignace wanted, so⸺”
