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. "Damn 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.