And he is disposed of! All you have to do is to keep your mouth shut forever.

I will make you rich." As Leah clung to her partner in crime, Fritz Braun gave her a handful of gold--his last peace offering.

"Never go back again to Brooklyn," he hoarsely whispered.

"Remember, and keep ready to come to me." Braun stood alone on the deck of the "Mesopotamia" as the huge bulk slowly swung around and gathered headway.

The yellow lights of Hoboken gleamed out faintly to the right, and to the left New York's irregular skyline was lit up with a lurid reflected glow.
But he shuddered as he saw the airy line of the arch of Brooklyn Bridge and the gleaming beacons below, where vice and virtue, craft and candor, stupid drudge and lazy child of luxury had all forgotten the cares of the weary day.
He started in alarm as the hoarse siren of the "Mesopotamia" screamed out its bellowing note of departure.
A spasm of rage shook his trembling frame.