Part 27 (1/2)
”It ain't too late,” came the mayor's voice, ”You can do it yet. It ain't too late.”
”Do what?” cried Bland in a firm tone. ”You can't bribe me, Cargan.” He raised his voice. ”Go round to the east door, Mr. Hayden.” Then he added, to Cargan: ”That's my answer. I'm going to let him in.”
”Let him in,” bellowed the mayor. ”Let the hound in. I guess I've got something to say to Mr. Hayden.”
There came to Magee's ears the sound of opening doors, and of returning footsteps.
”How do you do, Cargan,” said a voice new to Baldpate.
”Cut the society howdydoes,” replied the mayor hotly. ”There's a little score to be settled between me and you, Hayden. I ain't quite wise to your orchid-in-the-b.u.t.tonhole ways. I don't quite follow them. I ain't been bred in the club you hang around--they blackballed me when I tried to get in. You know that. I'm a rough rude man. I don't understand your system. When I give my word, I keep it. Has that gone out of style up on the avenue, where you live?”
”There are conditions--” began Hayden.
”The h.e.l.l there are!” roared Cargan. ”A man's word's his word, and he keeps it to me, or I know the reason why. You can't come down to the City Hall with any new deal like this. I was to have two hundred thousand. Why didn't I get it?”
”Because,” replied Hayden smoothly, ”the--er--little favor you were to grant me in return is to be made useless by the courts.”
”Can I help that?” the mayor demanded. ”Was there anything about that in the agreement? I did my work. I want my pay. I'll have it, _Mister_ Hayden.”
Hayden's voice was cool and even as he spoke to Bland.
”Got the money, Joe?”
”Yes,” Bland answered.
”Where?”
”Well--we'd better wait, hadn't we?” Bland's, voice was shaky.
”No. We'll take it and get out,” answered Hayden.
”I want to see you do it,” cried Cargan. ”If you think I've come up here on a pleasure trip, I got a chart and a pointer all ready for your next lesson. And let me put you wise--this n.o.bby little idea of yours about Baldpate Inn is the worst ever. The place is as full of people as if the regular summer rates was being charged.”
”The devil it is!” cried Hayden. His voice betrayed a startled annoyance.
”It hasn't worried me none,” went on the mayor. ”They can't touch me. I own the prosecutor, and you know it. But it ain't going to do you any good on the avenue if you're seen here with me. Is it, Mr. Hayden?”
”The more reason,” replied Hayden, ”for getting the money and leaving at once. I'm not afraid of you, Cargan. I'm armed.”
”I ain't,” sneered the mayor. ”But no exquisite from your set with his little air-gun ever scared me. You try to get away from here with that bundle and you'll find yourself all tangled up in the worst sc.r.a.p that ever happened.”
”Where's the money, Joe?” asked Hayden.
”You won't wait--” Bland begged.
”Wait to get my own money--I guess not. Show me where it is.”
”Remember,” put in Cargan, ”that money's mine. And don't have any pipe dreams about the law--the law ain't called into things of this sort as a rule. I guess you'd be the last to call it. You'll never get away from here with my money.”
Mr. Magee opened the card-room door farther, and saw the figure of the stranger Hayden confronting the mayor. Mr. Cargan's t.i.tle of exquisite best described him. The newcomer was tall, fair, fastidious in dress and manner. A revolver gleamed in his hand.