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Updated: October 19, 2025
Is it fair to Jim Farland's wife and child?" "I I am being kept informed," she assured him. "If they treat Mr. Farland badly, or detain him much longer, I shall speak. But until then, I have nothing to say. You see, Mr. Prale, I cannot believe that you are innocent and have been misjudged.
I will be away for an hour or so, and the escape can happen while I'm not here." "That suits me," Farland said. "What about the money?" "You'll get it just as soon as I get my hands loose." The guard walked to the hall door and opened it, peered out into the hall and listened. Then he hurried back to the couch and cut Jim Farland's bonds.
Typical thugs they were, the three of them, and Farland supposed that the chauffeur, who had not come into the house with the others, belonged to the same class. One of them stepped forward and removed Farland's gag, while another went into another room and presently returned with a dipper of water, which he held to Farland's lips. He drank greedily, for the gag had parched his mouth and throat.
He and Prale had been firm friends ten years before, when Farland was on duty in the financial district, and they had made it a point at that time to eat luncheon together when Farland's duties permitted. New York seemed a better place, even with one friend among several million persons.
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