Garth was surprised, now that the strain was broken, not to experience any exceptional relief. In spite of the game's vital stakes it had interested him chiefly because of the various effects it might have had on Nora. Yet it had yielded him no key to her presence here, to her disgraceful marketing of her father's confidence, to her assumption at home of black robes and grief, or, finally, to her apparent decision to let the night's work continue in spite of his presence. Probably she hoped he could not get help until the job had been done. Or—and the thought struck him with the shameful tingling of a slap—perhaps she thought he would let the others go rather than capture and convict the woman he had craved in marriage.
He pressed his lips together. He beckoned to Slim. He took the whip in his own hands.
"Is the safe here? Are we going to spend the rest of the night on this boat? If the cops are awake it isn't wise."
"All right," the leader said. "George, you and Nora and Simmons wait here. The rest of you start out."
The studious-appearing youth, the tramp, the dandy, and the elderly man filed through the door and silently closed it. The leader spoke to Garth quickly.
"George will unlock the safe without any trouble. He's the best in the business. Your job's to open it and handle what you find without blowing the lot of us to everlasting dirt."
