The Walking Delegate Part 54

Tom regarded the contractor with open amazement. "No," he managed to say. "It will keep me in the house for a while, though."

"I thought so, and that's why I came. I saw from the papers that you would doubtless be the next leader of the union. As you know, it is highly important to both sides that we come to an agreement about the strike as early as possible. It seemed to me desirable that you and I have a chat first and arrange for a meeting of our respective committees. And since I knew you could not come to see me, I have come to see you."

Mr. Baxter delivered these prepared sentences smoothly, showing his white teeth in a slight smile. This was the most plausible reason his brain had been able to lay hold of to explain his coming. And come he must, for he had a terrifying dread that Tom knew the facts he was trying to keep from the public. It had taxed his ingenuity frightfully that morning to make an explanation to his wife that would clear himself. If Tom did know, and were to speak--there would be public disgrace, and no explaining to his wife.

Tom's control came back to him, and he was filled with a sudden exultant sense of mastery over this keen, powerful man. "It is of course desirable that we settle the strike as soon as possible," he agreed calmly, not revealing that he recognized Mr. Baxter's explanation to be a fraud.

"It certainly will be a relief to us to deal with a man of integrity. I think we have both had not very agreeable experiences with one whose strong point was not his honor."

"Yes."

There was that in Mr. Baxter's manner which was very near frank cordiality. "Has it not occurred to you as somewhat remarkable, Mr.

Keating, that both of us, acting independently, have been working to expose Mr. Foley?"

Tom had never had the patience necessary to beat long about the bush. He was master, and he swept Mr. Baxter's method aside. "The sad feature of both our efforts," he said calmly, but with fierce joy, "has been that we have failed, so far, to expose the chief villain."

The corners of Mr. Baxter's mouth twitched the least trifle, but when he spoke he showed the proper surprise. "Have we, indeed! Whom do you mean?"

Tom looked him straight in the eyes. "I wonder if you'd care to know what I think of you?"

"That's an unusual question. But--it might be interesting."

"I think you are an infernal hypocrite!--and a villain to boot!"

"What?" Mr. Baxter sprang to his feet, trying to look angry and amazed.

"Sit down, Mr. Baxter," Tom said quietly. "That don't work with me. I'm on to you. We got Foley, but you're the man we've failed to expose--so far."

Mr. Baxter resumed his chair, and for an instant looked with piercing steadiness at Tom's square face.

"What do you know?--think you know?"

"I'll tell you, be glad to, for I want you to know I'm thoroughly on to you. You suggested this scheme to Foley, and it wasn't a scheme to catch Foley, but to cheat the union." And Tom went on to outline the parts of the story Mr. Baxter had withheld from the newspapers.

"That sounds very interesting, Mr. Keating," Mr. Baxter said, his lips trembling back from his teeth. "But even supposing that were true, it isn't evidence."

"I didn't say it was--though part of it is. But suppose I gave to the papers what I've said to you? Suppose I made this point: if Baxter had really intended to trap Foley, wouldn't he have had him arrested the minute after the money had been turned over, so that he would have stood in no danger of losing the money, and so Foley would have been caught with the goods on? And suppose I presented these facts: Mr. Baxter had tickets bought for 'The Maid of Mexico,' and was on the point of leaving for the theater with his wife when a union man, his spy, who had learned of my plan to expose the scheme, came to his house and told him I was on to the game and was going to expose it. Mr. Baxter suddenly decides not to go to the theater, and rushes off to the District Attorney with his story of having trapped Foley. Suppose I said these things to the papers--they'd be glad to get 'em, for it's as good a story as the one this morning--what'd people be saying about you to-morrow? They'd say this: Up to the time he heard from his spy Baxter had no idea of going to the District Attorney. He was in the game for all it was worth, and only went to the District Attorney when he saw it was his only chance to save himself. They'd size you up for what you are--a briber and a liar!"

A faint tinge of color showed in Mr. Baxter's white cheeks. "I see you're a grafter, too!" he said, yielding to an uncontrollable desire to strike back. "Well--what's _your_ price?"

Tom sat bolt upright and glared at the contractor.

"d.a.m.n you!" he burst out. "If it wasn't for this ankle, I'd kick you out of the room, and down to the street, a kick to every step! Now you get out of here!--and quick!"

"I'm always glad to leave the presence of a blackmailer, my dear sir."

Mr. Baxter turned with a bow and went out.

Tom, in a fury, swung his feet off the couch and started to rise, only to sink back with a groan.

At the door of the flat Mr. Baxter thought of the morrow, of what the public would say, of what his wife would say. He came back, closed the door, and stood looking steadily down on Tom. "Well--what are you going to do about it?"

"Give it to the papers, that's what!"

"Suppose you do, and suppose a few persons believe it. Suppose, even, people say what you think they will. What then? You will have given your--ah--your information away, and how much better off are you for it?"

"Blackmailer, did you call me!"

Mr. Baxter did not heed the exclamation, but continued to look steadily downward, waiting.

A little while before Tom had been thinking vaguely of the possible use he could make of his power over Mr. Baxter. With lowered gaze, he now thought clearly, rapidly. The moral element of the situation did not appeal to him as strongly at that moment as did the practical. If he exposed Mr. Baxter it would bring himself great credit and prominence, but what material benefit would that exposure bring the union? Very little. Would it be right then for him, the actual head of the union, to use an advantage for his self-glorification that could be turned to the profit of the whole union?

After a minute Tom looked up. "No, I shall not give this to the newspapers. I'm going to use it otherwise--as a lever to get from you bosses what belongs to us. I hate to dirty my hands by using such means; but in fighting men of your sort we've got to take every advantage we get. If I had a thief by the throat I'd hardly let go so we could fight fair. I wouldn't be doing the square thing by the union if I refused to use an advantage of this sort."

He paused an instant and looked squarely into Mr. Baxter's eyes. "Yes, I have a price, and here it is. We're going to win this strike. You understand?"

"I think I do."

"Well?"

"You are very modest in your demands,"--sarcastically. Tom did not heed the remark.

Mr. Baxter half closed his eyes and thought a moment. "What guarantee have I of your silence?"

"My word."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

Mr. Baxter was again silent for a thoughtful moment.

"Well?" Tom demanded.

Mr. Baxter's face gave a faint suggestion that a struggle was going on within. Then his little smile came out, and he said:

"Permit me to be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Keating, on having won the strike."

Chapter x.x.xII

THE THORN OF THE ROSE

Shortly after lunch Mr. Driscoll called Ruth into his office. "Dr. Hall has just sent me word that he wants to meet the building committee on important business this afternoon, so if you'll get ready we'll start right off."

A few minutes later the two were on a north-bound Broadway car.