"Mr. Sullivan," continued Ralston from his seat in the horsehair rocker, "I don't mean you any harm. In fact, I can do you a good turn now and then if you'll help me out. All I want is my coin for turning up this chap Steadman. I know he's no good. He's anybody's money. He's nothing to me. But it's all in my day's work. Now, don't think me disagreeable. I want Steadman, you want--well, you don't want certain little incidents of your career to get to the ears of the district attorney--the Shackleton bonds, for example. Now, don't be alarmed. I haven't the slightest intention of giving you away, but, come now, let's be on the level with each other."
"You think you've got something on me, eh? Prove it! What bonds did you say?"
Ralston saw that he had nearly made a slip.
"Quite right," said he. "I said Shackleton bonds--I was _thinking_ of Shackleton. Of course I meant the Mercantile bonds. But if you have any doubt about my sincerity I might go into the Masterson matter----"
But Sullivan was on his feet, his eyes staring, and his face as pale as it had been on the floor of "The Martin."
"Come! Come! Is it a bargain? You help me and I help you. Where is he?"
"I'll go with you," muttered Sullivan. "Where's my coat?" He looked around anxiously. There was no doubt as to the effectiveness of the reference to the Masterson case.
"Get me a coat," he ordered of the girl. Florence Davenport left the room, leaving the two men facing one another--the criminal and the gentleman. It would have been hard to say which looked the more haggard. The light of the dim lamp made the rings around Ralston's eyes look like huge horn-rimmed spectacles, and his mouth was drawn to a thin line. Inside his head was beginning to sing and the corners of his lids to twitch. He knew the symptoms. He was beginning to "fade out." But he was getting warm now and he paid no heed to himself.
The girl returned, bringing in her arms a pile of new silk-lined black overcoats. Ralston remembered the incident afterwards, but at the time it did not impress him. It is doubtful whether he knew definitely the meaning of the term--"a fence."
Mechanically he selected a coat to fit him and Sullivan did the same. The Davenport girl put on the smallest.