CHAPTER XXXIII
BROMFIELD MAKES AN OFFER
A youth with a face like a fox sidled up to Durand in the hotel lobbyand whispered in his ear. Jerry nodded curtly, and the man slippedaway as furtively as he had come.
Presently the ex-prize-fighter got up, sauntered to the street, andhailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later he paid the driver, turned acorner, and passed into an apartment house for bachelors. He took theelevator to the third floor and rang an electric bell at a door whichcarried the name "Mr. Clarendon Bromfield."
From the man who came to the door Mr. Bromfield's visitor learned thathe was not well and could receive no callers.
"Just mention the Omnium Club, and say I'm here on very importantbusiness," said Jerry with a sour grin.
The reference served as a password. Jerry was admitted to meet a hostquite unable to control his alarm. At sight of his visitor Bromfieldjumped up angrily. As soon as his man had gone he broke out in asubdued scream.
"You rotten traitor! Get out of my room, or I'll call the police."
Durand found a comfortable chair, drew a case from his pocket, andselected a cigar. He grinned with evil mirth.
"You will, eh? Like hell you will. You're hidin' from the cops thisblessed minute. I've just found out myself where you live."
"You took my money and threw me down. You hired a gunman to kill me."
"Now, what would I do that for? I hadn't a thing in the world againstyou, an' I haven't now."
"That damned ruffian shot at me. He was still shooting when I struckhim with the chair," cried Bromfield, his voice shaking.
"He didn't know it was you--mistook you for Lindsay in the darkness."
"My God, I didn't mean to kill him. I had to do something."
"You did it all right."
"I told you there wasn't to be any violence. It was explicitly stated.You promised. And all the time you were planning murder. I'll tellall I know. By God, I will."
"Go easy, Mr. Bromfield," snarled Jerry. "If you do, where do ye thinkyou'll get off at?"
"I'll go to the police and tell them your hired gunman was shooting atus."
"Will you now? An' I'll have plenty of good witnesses to swear hewasn't." Durand bared his teeth in a threat. "That's not all either.I'll tie you up with the rube from the West and send you up to SingSing as accessory. How'd you like that?"
"If I tell the truth--"
"You'll be convicted of murder in place of him and he'll go up asaccessory. I don't care two straws how it is. But you'd be a damnedfool. I'll say that for you."
"I'm not going to let an innocent man suffer in my place. It wouldn'tbe playing the game."
Durand leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger-tips. Hisvoice rasped like a file. "You can't save him. He's goin' to get itright. But you can hurt yourself a hell of a lot. Get out of thecountry and stay out till it's over with. That's the best thing youcan do. Go to the Hawaiian Islands, man. That's a good healthyclimate an' the hotel cooking's a lot better than it is at Sing Sing."
"I can't do it," moaned the clubman. "My God, man, if it ever cameout--that I'd paid you money to--to--ruin his reputation, and that I'drun away when I could have saved an innocent man--I'd be done for. I'dbe kicked out of every club I'm in."
"It won't ever come out if you're not here. But if you force myhand--well, that's different." Again Jerry's grin slit his colorlessface. He had this poor devil where he wanted him, and he was enjoyinghimself.
"What do you want me to do, then?" cried Bromfield, tiny beads ofperspiration on his forehead.
"You'll do as I say--beat it outa the country till the thing's overwith."
"But Lindsay will talk."
"The boob's padlocked his mouth. For some fool reason he's protectin'you. Get out, an' you're safe."
Bromfield sweated blood as he walked up and down the room looking for away out of his dilemma. He had come to the parting of the road again.If he did this thing he would be a yellow cur. It was one thing todestroy Lindsay's influence with Beatrice by giving her a falseimpression. From his point of view their friendship was perniciousanyhow and ought to be wiped out. At most the cattleman would havegone back unhurt to the Arizona desert he was always talking about.Nobody there would care about what had happened to him in New York.But to leave him, an innocent man, to go to his death because he wastoo chivalrous to betray his partner in an adventure--this wassomething that even Bromfield's atrophied conscience revolted at. Claywas standing by him, according to Durand's story. The news of itlifted a weight from his soul. But it left him too under a strongermoral obligation to step out and face the music.
The clubman made the only decision he could, and that was toprocrastinate, to put off making any choice for the present.
"I'll think it over. Give me a day to make up my mind," he begged.
Jerry shrugged his heavy shoulders. He knew that every hour counted inhis favor, would make it more difficult for the tortured man to comeforward and tell the truth. "Sure. Look it over upside and down.Don't hurry. But, man, what's there to think about? I thought youhated this guy--wanted to get rid of him."
"Not that way. God, no! Durand, I'll give you any sum in reason tolet him go without bringing me into it. You can arrange it."
Jerry slammed down a fist heavily on the table. "I can, but I won't.Not if you was to go fifty-fifty with me to your last cent. I'm goin'to get this fellow. See? I'm goin' to get him good. He'll becrawlin' on his hands and knees to me before I'm through with him."
"What good will that do you? I'm offering you cold cash just to letthe truth get out--that Collins was trying to kill him when he got hit."
"Nothin' doin'. I've been layin' for this boob. I've got him now.I'm goin' to turn the screws on and listen to him holler."
Bromfield's valet stepped into the room. "Mr. and Miss Whitford to seeyou, sir."