Part 106

“We'll follow,” said he, “the original programme, as laid down by myself. I'm tired of dealing with blundering fools. Heinzman's mortgage will be foreclosed; and you will hand over as per the agreement your Boom Company stock.”

Orde stared at him in amazement.

“I must say you have good nerve,” he said; “you don't seem to realise that you are pretty well tangled up. I don't know what they call it: criminal conspiracy, or something of that sort, I suppose. So far from handing over to you the bulk of my property, I can send you to the penitentiary.”

“Nonsense,” rejoined Newmark, leaning forward in his turn. “I know you too well, Jack Orde. You're a fool of more kinds than I care to count, and this is one of the kinds. Do you seriously mean to say that you dare try to prosecute me? Just as sure as you do, I'll put Heinzman in the pen too. I've got it on him, COLD. He's a bribe giver--and somewhat of a criminal conspirator himself.”

“Well,” said Orde.

Newmark leaned back with an amused little chuckle. “If the man hadn't come to you and given the whole show away, you'd have lost every cent you owned. He did you the biggest favour in his power. And for your benefit I'll tell you what you can easily substantiate; I forced him into this deal with me. I had this bribery case on him; and in addition his own affairs were all tied up.”

“I knew that,” replied Orde.

“What had the man to gain by telling you?” pursued Newmark. “Nothing at all. What had he to lose? Everything: his property, his social position, his daughter's esteem, which the old fool holds higher than any of them. You could put me in the pen, perhaps--with Heinzman's testimony. But the minute Heinzman appears on the stand, I'll land him high and dry and gasping, without a chance to flop.”

He paused a moment to puff at his cigar. Finding it had gone out, he laid the butt carefully on the ash tray at his elbow.

“I'm not much used to giving advice,” he went on, “least of all when it is at all likely to be taken. But I'll offer you some. Throw Heinzman over. Let him go to the pen. He's been crooked, and a fool.”

“That's what you'd do, I suppose,” said Orde.

“Exactly that. You owe nothing to Heinzman; but something to what you would probably call repentance, but which is in reality a mawkish sentimentality of weakness. However, I know you, Jack Orde, from top to bottom; and I know you're fool enough not to do it. I'm so sure of it that I dare put it to you straight; you could never bring yourself to the point of destroying a man who had sacrificed himself for you.”

“You seem to have this game all figured out,” said Orde with contempt.

Newmark leaned back in his chair. Two bright red spots burned in his ordinarily sallow cheeks. He half closed his eyes.

“You're right,” said he with an ill-concealed satisfaction. “If you play a game, play it through. Each man is different; for each a different treatment is required. The game is infinite, wonderful, fascinating to the skilful.” He opened his eyes and looked over at Orde with a mild curiosity. “I suppose men are about all of one kind to you.”

“Two,” said Orde grimly; “the honest men and the scoundrels.”

“Well,” said the other, “let's settle this thing. The fact remains that the firm owes a note to Heinzman, which it cannot pay. You owe a note to the firm which you cannot pay. All this may be slightly irregular; but for private reasons you do not care to make public the irregularity. Am I right so far?”

Orde, who had been watching him with a slightly sardonic smile, nodded.

“Well, what I want out of this--”

“You might hear the other side,” interrupted Orde. “In the first place,” said he, producing a bundle of papers, “I have the note and the mortgage in my possession.”

“Whence Heinzman will shortly rescue them, as soon as I get to see him,” countered Newmark. “You acknowledge that I can force Heinzman; and you can hardly refuse him.”

“If you force Heinzman, he'll land you,” Orde pointed out.

“There is Canada for me, with no extradition. He travels with heavier baggage. I have the better trumps.”

“You'd lose everything.”

“Not quite,” smiled Newmark. “And, as usual, you are forgetting the personal equation. Heinzman is--Heinzman. And I am I.”

“Then I suppose this affidavit from Heinzman as to the details of all this is useless for the same reason?”

Newmark's thin lips parted in another smile.

“Correct,” said he.