"No, he wasn't!" he cried, "because he run away! And left an old man in the street--dead, for all he knowed--nor cared neither.Yah!" shrieked the Tammany heeler."HIM a Reformer, yah!""Stand away from my car," shouted Winthrop, "or you'll get hurt.""Yah, you'd like to, wouldn't you?" returned Mr.Schwab, leaping, nimbly to one side."What do you think the Journal'll give me for that story, hey? `Ernest Peabody, the Reformer, Kills an Old Man, AND RUNS AWAY.' And hiding his face, too! I seen him.What do you think that story's worth to Tammany, hey? It's worth twenty thousand votes!"The young man danced in front of the car triumphantly, mockingly, in a frenzy of malice."Read the extras, that's all," he taunted."Read 'em in an hour from now!"Winthrop glared at the shrieking figure with fierce, impotent rage; then, with a look of disgust, he flung the robe off his knees and rose.Mr.Schwab, fearing bodily injury, backed precipitately behind the policeman.
"Come here," commanded Winthrop softly.Mr.Schwab warily approached."That story," said Winthrop, dropping his voice to a low whisper, "is worth a damn sight more to you than twenty thousand votes.You take a spin with me up Riverside Drive where we can talk.Maybe you and I can `make a little business.'"At the words, the face of Mr.Schwab first darkened angrily, and then, lit with such exultation that it appeared as though Winthrop's efforts had only placed Peabody deeper in Mr.
Schwab's power.But the rat-like eyes wavered, there was doubt in them, and greed, and, when they turned to observe if any one could have heard the offer, Winthrop felt the trick was his.It was apparent that Mr.Schwab was willing to arbitrate.
He stepped gingerly into the front seat, and as Winthrop leaned over him and tucked and buckled the fur robe around his knees, he could not resist a glance at his friends on the sidewalk.They were grinning with wonder and envy, and as the great car shook itself, and ran easily forward, Mr.Schwab leaned back and carelessly waved his hand.But his mind did not waver from the purpose of his ride.He was not one to be cajoled with fur rugs and glittering brass.
"Well, Mr.Winthrop," he began briskly."You want to say something? You must be quick--every minute's money.""Wait till we're out of the traffic," begged Winthrop anxiously "I don't want to run down any more old men, and Iwouldn't for the world have anything happen to you, Mr.--" He paused politely.
"Schwab--Isadore Schwab."
"How did you know MY name?" asked Winthrop.
"The card you gave the police officer"
"I see," said Winthrop.They were silent while the car swept swiftly west, and Mr.Schwab kept thinking that for a young man who was afraid of the traffic, Winthrop was dodging the motor cars, beer vans, and iron pillars, with a dexterity that was criminally reckless.
At that hour Riverside Drive was empty, and after a gasp of relief, Mr.Schwab resumed the attack.
"Now, then," he said sharply, "don't go any further.What is this you want to talk about?""How much will the Journal give you for this story of yours?" asked Winthrop.
Mr.Schwab smiled mysteriously.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because," said Winthrop, "I think I could offer you something better.""You mean," said the police-court lawyer cautiously, "you will make it worth my while not to tell the truth about what Isaw?"
"Exactly," said Winthrop.
"That's all! Stop the car," cried Mr.Schwab.His manner was commanding.It vibrated with triumph.His eyes glistened with wicked satisfaction.
"Stop the car?" demanded Winthrop, "what do you mean?""I mean," said Mr.Schwab dramatically, "that I've got you where I want you, thank you.You have killed Peabody dead as a cigar butt! Now I can tell them how his friends tried to bribe me.Why do you think I came in your car? For what money YOU got? Do you think you can stack up your roll against the New York Journal's, or against Tammany's ?" His shrill voice rose exultantly."Why, Tammany ought to make me judge for this! Now, let me down here," he commanded, "and next time, don't think you can take on `Izzy' Schwab and get away with it."They were passing Grant's Tomb, and the car was moving at a speed that Mr.Schwab recognized was in excess of the speed limit.
"Do you hear me?" he demanded, "let me down!"To his dismay Winthrop's answer was in some fashion to so juggle with the shining brass rods that the car flew into greater speed.To "Izzy" Schwab it seemed to scorn the earth, to proceed by leaps and jumps.But, what added even more to his mental discomfiture was, that Winthrop should turn, and slowly and familiarly wink at him.
As through the window of an express train, Mr.Schwab saw the white front of Claremont, and beyond it the broad sweep of the Hudson.And, then, without decreasing its speed, the car like a great bird, swept down a hill, shot under a bridge, and into a partly paved street.Mr.Schwab already was two miles from his own bailiwick.His surroundings were unfamiliar.On the one hand were newly erected, untenanted flat houses with the paint still on the window panes, and on the other side, detached villas, a roadhouse, an orphan asylum, a glimpse of the Hudson.
"Let me out," yelled Mr.Schwab, "what you trying to do? Do you think a few blocks'll make any difference to a telephone?
You think you're damned smart, don't you? But you won't feel so fresh when I get on the long distance.You let me down,"he threatened, "or, I'll----"
With a sickening skidding of wheels, Winthrop whirled the car round a corner and into the Lafayette Boulevard, that for miles runs along the cliff of the Hudson.
"Yes," asked Winthrop, "WHAT will you do?"On one side was a high steep bank, on the other many trees, and through them below, the river.But there were no houses, and at half-past eight in the morning those who later drive upon the boulevard were still in bed.
"WHAT will you do?" repeated Winthrop.
