Part 107

“But you're ready to compromise below the face of the note?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Newmark hesitated.

“I'll tell you,” said he; “because I know you well enough to realise that there is a point where your loyalty to Heinzman would step aside in favour of your loyalty to your family.”

“And you think you know where that point is?”

“It's the basis of my compromise.”

Orde began softly to laugh. “Newmark, you're as clever as the devil,” said he. “But aren't you afraid to lay out your cards this way?”

“Not with you,” replied Newmark, boldly; “with anybody else on earth, yes. With you, no.”

Orde continued to laugh, still in the low undertone.

“The worst of it is, I believe you're right,” said he at last. “You have the thing sized up; and there isn't a flaw in your reasoning. I always said that you were the brains of this concern. If it were not for one thing, I'd compromise sure; and that one thing was beyond your power to foresee.”

He paused. Newmark's eyes half-closed again, in a quick darting effort of his brain to run back over all the elements of the game he was playing. Orde waited in patience for him to speak.

“What is it?” asked Newmark at last. “Heinzman died of smallpox at four o'clock this afternoon,” said Orde.

XLVIII

Newmark did not alter his attitude nor his expression, but his face slowly went gray. For a full minute he sat absolutely motionless, his breath coming and going noisily through his contracted nostrils. Then he arose gropingly to his feet, and started toward one of the two doors leading from the room.

“Where are you going?” asked Orde quietly.

Newmark steadied himself with an effort.

“I'm going to get myself a drink in my bedroom,” he snapped. “Any objections?”

“No,” replied Orde. “None. After you get your drink, come back. I want to talk to you.”

Newmark snarled at him: “You needn't be afraid I'll run away. How'd I get out of town?”

“I know it wouldn't pay you to run away,” said Orde.

Newmark passed out through the door. Orde looked thoughtfully at Heinzman's affidavit, which, duly disinfected, had been handed him by Dr. McMullen as important; and thrust it and the other papers into his inside pocket. Then he arose to his feet and glided softly across the room to take a position close to the door through which Newmark had departed in quest of his drink. For a half minute he waited. Finally the door swung briskly inward. Like a panther, as quickly and as noiselessly, Orde sprang forward. A short but decisive struggle ensued. In less than ten seconds Orde had pinioned Newmark's arms to his side where he held them immovable with one of his own. The other hand he ran down Newmark's right arm to the pocket. There followed an instant of silent resistance. Then with a sharp cry of mingled anger and pain Newmark snatched his hand out and gazed a trifle amazedly at the half crushed fingers. Orde drew forth the revolver Newmark had grasped concealed in the coat pocket.

Without hesitation he closed and locked the bedroom door; turned the key in the lock of the other; tried and fastened the window. The revolver he opened; spilled out the cartridges into his hand; and then tossed the empty weapon to Newmark, who had sunk into the chair by the lamp.

“There's your plaything,” said he. “So you wanted that affidavit, did you? Now we have the place to ourselves; and we'll thresh this matter out.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts.

“I don't need to tell you that I've got you about where you live,” said he finally. “Nor what I think of you. The case is open and shut; and I can send you over the road for the best part of your natural days. Also I've got these notes and the mortgage.”

“Quit it,” growled Newmark, “you've got me. Send me up; and be damned.”

“That's the question,” went on Orde slowly. “I've been at it three days, without much time off for sleep. You hurt me pretty bad, Joe. I trusted you; and I thought of you as a friend.”