"Including buying Morris's house," interjected Mrs. Trafford, to prevent him from so covering the truth with cant that it would be invisible to her.
"That did figure in it," admitted Trafford, in some confusion. "Then, we found out they were simply using us to get control of the O.A.D. for themselves. So we—Atwater and Langdon and I—arranged quietly to drop them into their own trap. We've done it—that's all. Next week we're going to expose them and their false committee; and the policy holders of the O.A.D. will be glad to put their interests in the hands of men we can keep in order. Fosdick and Armstrong can't retaliate. We've got the press with us, and have made every arrangement. Anything they say will be branded at once as malicious lies."
"What kind of malicious lies will they tell?"
"How should I know?" And Trafford preened, with his small, precisely clad figure at its straightest.
"But you do know," said Mrs. Trafford slowly and with acidlike significance.
Trafford made no reply in words. His face, however, was eloquent.
"You've been hypnotized by Atwater," pursued Mrs. Trafford. "You think him more powerful than he is. And—he isn't in any insurance company directly, is he?"
"No."
"Mr. Langdon?"
"No—they keep in the background." Trafford's upper lip was trembling so that she could see it despite his mustache.