"I need it!" I led him to the sideboard and filled two glasses with whiskey.
"Here's to crime!" I muttered, with a bitter laugh.
Gottlieb shot a fierce look at me and his hand shook so that I thought he would drop the tumbler; but he poured the liquor down his throat and threw himself into a chair.
"That fellow has us by the throat!" he groaned.
"We should have thought of that--" I began.
"Stop!" he gasped.

"You can hold a post-mortem later on.

They haven't got us yet--and, by God! we've a long start.

Once let us whip Hawkins out of the way and they're helpless! I must stay here to fight the case, but you, Quib, must take this fellow where they'll never find him--Africa, Alaska, Europe--anywhere! If you could drop him over a precipice or off an ocean liner--so much the better!" For an instant we eyed each other keenly.

Then I shook my head.
"No," said I.