She could see some new look of suspicion and rage mounting into his watchful eyes. “I do the talking this trip,” he cried.
“Then cut in and loop that third wire—no, the fourth, counting the lighting wire—on the eave there. It is the Van Schaick house-wire—indeed, it would be much better to cut them off altogether, after we cut in, or there might be some interference from them with Central. Now throw open that switch behind the window-curtain there—so. Now, if you will ring up Central and ask for the Chelsea, they will connect you directly with Durkin. He is waiting in his room there for me.”
He looked at her, suspicious and puzzled, the momentary note of triumph gone out of his voice.
“See here, Frank, I may as well tell you one thing, straight out. Although I square up with Durkin for what I got out of him, and pass this money of his over to you, I tell you now, I’m going to smash that man!”
“Smash him?” she echoed, dismally. “Then you’ve been lying!”
“Yes, smash him! You don’t imagine I’m goin’ to have that piker shadowin’ and doggin’ me like a flatty all my days! I stand pat now with Doogan and his men. And in ten days I can have Durkin up against ten years!”
“That’s a lie,” she contended.
“Well, I can have him so he’ll be glad to get ten years, just to get out o’ what’s comin’ to him!”
“Then this was all a trap, a plot?” she gasped.
“No, it’s not a trap—it’s only that I wanted to save you out o’ the mess. I’m wise enough in most things, but about you I’ve always been a good deal of a fool. It’s my loose screw, all right; sometimes it’s driven me near crazy. I’m goin’ to have you, I don’t care what it costs me—I don’t care if I have to pound this Durkin’s brains out with a lead-pipe!”