The nephew saw Mullaney shake his head and throw up his hands in appeal and protest.
That spectacle made Richard Dodd a fugitive who thought only of saving himself. He fought his way through the crowd and ran out of the hall. The thought of facing Symonds Dodd in that crisis or of waiting to be dragged before the furious tyrant--that thought lashed the traitor into mad flight.
He glanced up at the clock in the First National tower. He had three minutes before the bank's closing time. He controlled his emotions as best he could and presented the check at the paying-teller's grill. The money was counted out to him without question, and when he held the thick packet in his hand he realized still more acutely in what position he stood in his affairs with Symonds Dodd.
He rushed to a garage, secured his car, and fled.
“I tell you I gave my nephew a check for five thousand dollars,” insisted the colonel. “And the Dodds don't lie to each other!”
“Then they have begun to do it,” declared Mullaney. “He has double-crossed the two of us. There was never any talk between us of more than five hundred for the job.”
Colonel Dodd hurried into the anteroom and called the bank on the telephone. “Almighty Herod!” he yelped, when he was informed that the check had been cashed. He banged the receiver upon its hook. “Even my own nephew has joined the pack of those damnation wolves!”
Then with the air of a man recovering from a blow and wondering dizzily what had struck him, he left the convention hall by a rear door and went to his office.
Those whom he passed on his way out made no attempt to stop him, did not urge him to remain. That convention seemed to be doing very well without calling upon Colonel Symonds Dodd for help or suggestions.
Herald unofficial, _avant courier_, Mr. Daniel Breed squeezed himself through the pack of people while they were still cheering the name of the Honorable Archer Converse.
“Giving candy to youngsters and good news to grown folks never made anybody specially unpopular,” Mr. Breed assured himself with politician's sagacity.
Therefore, he jog-trotted down to the Converse law-offices and shot himself into the presence of the estimable gentleman who had remained aloof from the distracting business of a convention.