“You misunderstand me, Miss Verriner. Blake will not come back as an official. There will be changes in the Department, I imagine; changes for the better which even he and his Tammany Hall friends can’t stop, by the time he gets back with Binhart.”
The woman gave a little hand gesture of impatience.
“But don’t you see,” she protested, “supposing he gives up Binhart? Supposing he suspects something and hurries back to hold down his place?”
“They call him Never-Fail Blake,” commented the unmoved and dry-lipped official. He met her wide stare with his gently satiric smile.
“I see,” she finally said, “you’re not going to shoot him up. You’re merely going to wipe him out.”
“You are quite wrong there,” began the man across the table from her. “Administration changes may happen, and in—”
“In other words, you’re getting Jim Blake out of the way, off on this Binhart trail, while you work him out of the Department.”
“No competent officer is ever worked out of this Department,” parried the First Deputy.
She sat for a silent and studious moment or two, without looking at Copeland. Then she sighed, with mock plaintiveness. Her wistfulness seemed to leave her doubly dangerous.
“Mr. Copeland, aren’t you afraid some one might find it worth while to tip Blake off?” she softly inquired.