looked through them carefully, and could find nothing.
Was it possible that Teck was as much at sea concerning the whereabouts of the hidden money—if any, Val added—as he was? These were things for him to find out, Val decided. If Teck knew where the money was—if he had wrested the answer from the books—was it not likely that he would have gone at once about the business of getting possession of it, instead of sitting here with Jessica, looking as though he intended to stay the entire evening? Val thought it quite likely that this was so; that Teck did not yet know much about the hiding place of the Pomeroy fortune. He admitted, however, that Teck might be in possession of a rather shrewd idea of its whereabouts. Otherwise, why should he have been in such a hurry to get down here?
Val realized that he was dangerous to Teck—that is, that Teck must consider him dangerous. For Teck had not only to find the hidden wealth, he had to get away with it. And he would not be able to do that while Val was there, watching his every move. The money was not Teck’s, but once in his possession, away from the scene—in another state—perhaps in another country—it would be an almost impossible thing to get it away from him.
With Val in this affair, however, Teck would not get away so easily, and he knew it. His problem was to eliminate Val, thought Val as he watched through the window; that is what he would do if he were Teck, and he gave the handless one credit for thinking in the same common sense way. With only Jessica to reckon with, Teck might readily make his getaway—perhaps even induce her to carry out her promise as to marrying him; with Val in the running he stood to lose both
