“Weegman,” Lefty said, “you’re the most treacherous scoundrel I ever had the bad fortune to meet. You’re just about as trustworthy as a rattlesnake. Heaven knows I need money, and I certainly want to hold my job, but not even to save my own father and mother from being turned out of the home that has sheltered them so long would I enter into any sort of partnership with you.”
A look of astonished wrath contorted Weegman’s features, and a snarling laugh broke from his lips. “You poor fool!” he cried. “You’ve thrown away your last chance! I did think you would know enough to save yourself, but I see you haven’t an atom of sense in your head.”
There was something almost pitying in the smile Lefty gave him. Something, also, that caused the man a sudden throb of apprehension.
“You’re the fool, Weegman,” returned the southpaw. “You have confessed the whole rotten scheme. You have betrayed yourself and your fellow conspirator, Garrity.”
“Bah!” the rascal flung back, snapping his fingers again. “What good will it do you? I’ll deny everything. You can’t prove a thing. I was careful that there should be no witnesses, no one to hear a word that passed between us.”
Locke grabbed him by the wrist, and snapped him round with a jerk, facing one wall of the room. “And I,” he cried, “took care that every word we uttered should be heard by two reliable persons. I set the trap for Garrity, but I have been unable to decoy him into it. You walked into it unbidden. Look!”
With two strides he reached a dresser that stood against the wall. He seized it and moved it aside. With one finger he pointed to a small, square, black object that clung to the wall two feet from the floor.
“Look!” he commanded again.
Weegman stared uncomprehendingly, yet with the perspiration of dread beginning to bead his forehead.
“What is it?” he asked huskily.