CHAPTER XXXIV
WEEGMAN’S PROPOSAL
For four days Weegman had not troubled Locke, four days during which Lefty sought in vain to get some word from Charles Collier. His cablegrams remained unanswered. At the time when he had felt the most sanguine he seemed to find himself blocked again. He did not seek to delude himself with the belief that silence on the part of the conspirators meant they were inactive. Doubtless they were at work harder than ever. What were they doing? He confessed that he would give a great deal to know.
Then Weegman reappeared. His manner was ingratiating. His chuckle seemed intended to be genial and friendly.
“A private room where we can talk without the slightest chance of being overheard, that’s what we want,” he said. “Your own room should be all right, as long as your wife is stopping with Miss Collier and her aunt.” He knew about that. How long he had known was a question.
Locke felt like turning the rascal down flatly. He was on the verge of doing so when something led him to decide differently. Perhaps a little patience and cleverness would enable him to get an inkling of what the enemy was doing. He took Weegman to his room, and shot the door bolt behind them when they had entered.
“That’s right,” said Collier’s private secretary. “We don’t want to be interrupted by anybody. I took a great deal of pains that no one who knew me should see me come here. Garrity mustn’t get wise. He ordered me to keep away from you.” Laughing, he flung himself down on a chair.
“Garrity!” cried Lefty, astonished at the confession. “Then you admit that you are taking your orders from him?”
“He thinks I am,” was the grinning answer. “Perhaps he’ll find himself fooled. If you and I can get together, I’m sure he will.”
Locke stifled a sense of repulsion. The man was more detestable than ever. It did not appear possible, and yet he still seemed to think that Locke would accept a proposal from him.
“How do you mean?” asked the pitcher, with masterly self-control. “Get together how?”