"You sold me out!"
Armstrong winced. Fosdick's phrase was unjust, but since his talk with Neva he was critical and sensitive in the matter of self-respect; and, while his campaign of self-defense, of "fighting the devil with fire," still seemed necessary and legitimate, it also seemed lacking in courage. If Fosdick had crept and crawled up on him, had he not also crawled and crept up on Fosdick? "I defended myself in the only way you left me," replied Armstrong. "I formed an alliance with the one man who could successfully attack you."
"So, it is Atwater who has bought the governor—and Morris—yes, and that ingrate, Westervelt!"
"However that may be," replied Armstrong, "you will be destroyed and Atwater will take the O.A.D. unless you meet my terms." He was flushing deep red before Fosdick's look of recognition of a brother in chicane.
He knew Atwater was simply using him, would destroy him or reduce him to dependence, as soon as Fosdick was stripped and ruined. He felt he was as fully justified in eluding the tiger by strategy as he had been in procuring the tiger to defeat and destroy the lion that had been about to devour him. Still, the business was not one a man would preen himself upon in a company of honest men and women. And Fosdick's look, which said, "This man, having sold me out, is now about to sell out his allies," hit home and hit hard.
But he must carry his project through, or fall victim to Atwater; he must not let this melting mood which Neva had brought about enfeeble his judgment and disarm his courage. "If you refuse my offer," he said to Fosdick, "the investigation will go on, and Atwater will get the O.A.D. and take from you every shred of your character and much of your fortune—perhaps all. If you accept my offer, the investigation will stop and you will retire from the O.A.D. peaceably and without having to face proceedings to compel you to make restitution."
"How do I know you can keep your bargain?"
"I have the governor and Morris with me," replied Armstrong, frankly exposing his whole hand. "They, no more than myself, wish to become the puppets of the Atwater-Langdon-Trafford crowd."
Fosdick reflected. Now that he knew the precise situation, he felt less feeble. Before Armstrong explained, he had been like a man fighting in a pitch dark room against foes he could not even number. Now, the light was on; he knew just how many, just who they were; and, appalling though the discovery was, it was not so appalling as that struggle in the pitch dark. "You evidently think I'm powerless," he said at last. "But if you press me too far, you will see that I am not. For instance, you need me. You must have me or fall into Atwater's clutches. You see, I am far from powerless."
"But you forget," replied Armstrong, "you are heavily handicapped by your reputation. A man who has to fight for his good name is like a soldier in battle with a baby on his arm and a woman clinging to his neck. How can you fight without losing your reputation? The committee is against you. At Monday's session, if you let matters take their course, all that Westervelt's books show of your profits from the O.A.D. will be exposed—even the way you made it pay for the carpets on your floors, for the sheets on your beds, for towels and soap and matches."