He's holding back warrants now for all of us. I couldn't leave town if I wanted to."

The numbing force of the calamity coming at this of all times fairly stupefied Bob, rendering him incapable of clear a.n.a.lysis or even of the suspicions his ordinary intelligence would have prompted.

"Why doesn't Snell get busy?" he inquired, blankly, at which Lilas lost her patience.

"Don't you see he's in on the graft? Snell doesn't want to pinch us. He doesn't care how Jarvis died, any more than Max or Goldberg cares. They want money, MONEY--coin! That's how things are run in this town, that's how the police are squared. If you don't come across they'll try to show that it was murder instead of self- defense. Remember it was my gun that killed--that did the work-- and it was found in Hammon's library."

Before Bob's arrival Lilas had prepared herself for this scene by a liberal dose of cocaine, but the strain of her acting had exhausted her strength; her brain was tiring. Accordingly she excused herself, and, once in her bathroom, prepared a fresh solution of the powder, leaving Bob the while to meditate upon his plight. When she returned her eyes were brighter and she had regained the mastery of her unruly nerves. Bob looked up with a drawn expression that almost moved her to pity.

"How much do they want?" he inquired, dully.

"Don't be a fool, Bob. You helped me; I won't see you gouged. No matter what you gave they'd frame you over again. We'd better face it."

"I CAN'T face it," he cried. "Alone, I would in a minute--no court in the world would hold Merkle and me for what we did--but I can't let 'em hurt my wife and my kid. Why, Lorelei would die of fright." He choked and stammered. "They want money. How much?"

"Merkle is the man they're after."

"How much?" he insisted.

"It would take a hundred thousand to square it."

Bob gasped. "This is the worst dream I ever had."

"I told you I couldn't understand their figures. But Merkle's a millionaire. If you had ten dollars you'd give one to square a copper, wouldn't you? Well, your name's Wharton, and his is Merkle. There's fifty million dollars behind those two names, and Max knows it. If I had the price I'd pay it to save you people who helped me when I needed help, but--what have I got? I told Max he could go to h.e.l.l, and you'd better tell him the same thing. Now-- what do you want me to do?"

Bob's lips were white. "Stand pat and wait until I--rob a bank.

I've got to buy three weeks' time, no matter what it costs."

When he had gone Lilas 'phoned first to Melcher and reported progress; then she called up Jim. The latter appeared in person that evening, and the two sat until late talking guardedly.

CHAPTER XXVI

There was but one man to whom Bob dared appeal in this unhappy situation, and that man was John Merkle. The banker listened gravely to Bob's recital, then inquired with apparent irrelevance:

"You are mighty fond of Lorelei, aren't you?"

"Why, of course."

Merkle nodded reflectively. "I was mistaken in you," he admitted.

"I didn't think the marriage would last. I suppose you are immensely pleased with yourself--reformed character, aren't you?"

His face expressed a cynical inquiry.

"Pleased with myself? Not much! Lorelei reformed me. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Good! I wondered if you took all the credit to yourself. Lorelei did do it, and I don't intend to let you forget the fact. Now, about this Lynn woman--you have been stung, Bob."

"You think so? I wonder--"

"Don't be a fool!"

"You think it is a frame-up?"

"What else could it be? Think!"

Bob exploded in desperation: "I can't think, with my wife in this condition. However, if you're right I'm going to see Max Melcher and tell him about Lorelei. Then I'm going to make him wait."

"Make him? MAKE HIM?"

"Yes, I'm going to MAKE him wait." Bob's lips were white; he raised his eyes slowly, and Merkle saw that they were heavy with resentment.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the latter. "Where is your common sense?

Never use violence; it is antiquated and expensive. Suppose you let me handle this thing in my own way."

"Have you any plan?"

"I'm never without one. They're not all good plans, understand; some are very bad, in fact. But, you see, I have been expecting something like this for a long time. I saw blackmail in your brother-in-law's face the night Jarvis Hammon was killed. I don't sleep much, so I have time to think, and, being dyspeptic, I'm always suspicious. Dyspepsia has spared me many disappointments; people are never any worse than I believe them to be."

"You don't believe Jim is in this, too? Why, he is Lorelei's brother!"

"What possible difference can that make to a man of his stamp?"

the banker demanded, querulously. "Don't you know your own brother-in-law? To a conscienceless rogue it's no more unnatural to conspire against one's relatives than against total strangers.

It is the logical thing to do. It is nature's method of protecting the stranger, and it's one of the penalties for having relatives.

You are young and sentimental, so I sha'n't tell you what my plan is. Meanwhile, though, you may tell Lilas that you have acquainted me with the situation and that I am willing to spend a lot of money to avoid publicity."

"Do you mean you are willing to pay her?"

Merkle smiled sourly. "Let her put her own construction on the statement."

Beyond this Merkle would give Bob little satisfaction, but later in the day, after a short telephone conversation, he called at one of the up-town political clubs and inquired for Senator Sabin. The Senator was expecting him, and Merkle lost no time in explaining his trouble.

Nature had endowed Sabin with the faculty of hearing more than people said and saying less than people heard. He sat now with a graven smile upon his fat, good-humored face, but with eyes that were serious and watchful. Only once did he interrupt his caller's recital, and then at the mention of Inspector Snell.

"Snell!" he exclaimed, sharply. "Are you sure?"

"So the woman says."

Sabin nodded; he carefully matched his fingers, tip to tip, and then relapsed into silence. Merkle went on with his story, feeling the while as if he were addressing an audience of two men, one a sympathetic, convivial soul, the other a baffling, sinister person behind a mask. But when Sabin finally spoke it was as neither; his voice was friendly and matter-of-fact.

"This is a bad business, John."

The banker broke out, irritably: "Now don't begin that! I have a pastor who keeps me in spiritual uncertainty, and a doctor who torments me physically, and a business that's h.e.l.l in both directions. I didn't come here to swap tears; I want help."

"It may cost--"

"Of course it may. I don't expect you to square it with a bunch of double English violets, but it can be squared, and it MUST be, if only for the sake of Hammon's women folks. It won't serve any good purpose to air that old scandal."