“But I went ahead after what you said. I have put out time and money. I hired a detective. I figured I was doing a good job for the machine.” Young Dodd's voice trembled and disappointment was etched into his anxious features. “Well, what have you found out?” “I can't tell you. It's another man's secret, and he's got to have cash or a guaranty before he'll come across with it.” “What's the price?” Richard Dodd exhibited confusion and hesitation. “I made some promises to him, uncle, because I know what has been paid in the past for things which didn't seem to be as important as this--judging from the way you and the judge talked. So I--well, I--” “Price, price, I say! I'm used to hearing money talked,” harked the colonel. “I've got to get back into that convention. Out with it!” He made two steps toward the door. “Five thousand!” blurted the young man. Colonel Dodd whirled and whipped off his eye-glasses so as to give his nephew the full effect of his contemptuous fury. “Why, you young lunatic, I wouldn't pay that price if they were going to elect Farr the governor of this state, and make him a present of the Consolidated, and you could bring proof that he is the reincarnation of Judas Iscariot.” A roar of voices and a thunder of thudding feet announced that the Senator had finished. Colonel Dodd hurried away. The nephew found Detective Mullaney in the alley behind the auditorium, and the young man's air of discomfiture and the sagging shake of his head told the story of his errand without words. “If they're getting too mean in their old age to hand me a fair price for a good job then let 'em get licked,” declared the detective. “You stuck to our original figure of five hundred dollars, didn't you?” The young man looked over the detective's head and lied. “Five hundred--that's what I told him.” “And he wouldn't consider it?” “Something has braced him so that he isn't afraid of the man any longer. Perhaps he has got a line of his own on him. It doesn't seem to be worth anything any longer. Suppose you tell me just who he is and what about him?” “Not on your life!” retorted Detective Mullaney, sharply. “I ain't saying anything against your family, of course, but when I give a Dodd something for nothing--even a hint--it will be when I'm talking in my sleep and don't know it. But I'll tell you what I _will_ do. Give me my two hundred and fifty and I'll hand you the whole proposition and you may go ahead and make what you can of it. I swear to you again that I've got it on him. Seeing what he did to _you_, you ought to feel that the story is worth that much of a gamble even for private purposes.” Dodd hesitated, put his hand in his pocket--then withdrew it empty. “No, Mullaney. What's the good? He says Farr isn't dangerous, and has turned down the whole thing flat. I may as well keep my money. If you want to sit on the platform, come along with me. I can find a place for you.”