Читать книгу A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits онлайн

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“Satisfactory?” repeated Nick. “Why, you are rated at ten million dollars—perhaps more. Five per cent of that would be——”

“Never mind about figuring it up,” interrupted Howard Milmarsh, smiling wanly. “You will accept the trust?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, old friend! I felt sure you would. I hope I shall hear something about my boy by the morning.”

“You shall if I can do anything to bring it about,” said Nick, rising. “I am going to New York now, and I think I know about all the places in which Howard is likely to take refuge in the great city of light.”

He went over to Milmarsh and shook hands. It struck the detective that the millionaire’s hands had never been quite so thin before, and that he had never noted such a weary look in the hollow eyes. But he made no comment, of course.

“Good night,” he called out from the door. “I’ll telephone the house as soon as I find the boy. Good night!”

“Good night!” was the response. “I’ll have some of the servants take the message. I’m going to bed. I feel that I need rest—a long rest!”