A roar of voices and a thunder of thudding feet announced that the Senator had finished.
Colonel Dodd hurried away.
The nephew found Detective Mullaney in the alley behind the auditorium, and the young man's air of discomfiture and the sagging shake of his head told the story of his errand without words.
“If they're getting too mean in their old age to hand me a fair price for a good job then let 'em get licked,” declared the detective. “You stuck to our original figure of five hundred dollars, didn't you?”
The young man looked over the detective's head and lied. “Five hundred—that's what I told him.”
“And he wouldn't consider it?”
“Something has braced him so that he isn't afraid of the man any longer. Perhaps he has got a line of his own on him. It doesn't seem to be worth anything any longer. Suppose you tell me just who he is and what about him?”
“Not on your life!” retorted Detective Mullaney, sharply. “I ain't saying anything against your family, of course, but when I give a Dodd something for nothing—even a hint—it will be when I'm talking in my sleep and don't know it. But I'll tell you what I will do. Give me my two hundred and fifty and I'll hand you the whole proposition and you may go ahead and make what you can of it. I swear to you again that I've got it on him. Seeing what he did to you, you ought to feel that the story is worth that much of a gamble even for private purposes.”
Dodd hesitated, put his hand in his pocket—then withdrew it empty.
“No, Mullaney. What's the good? He says Farr isn't dangerous, and has turned down the whole thing flat. I may as well keep my money. If you want to sit on the platform, come along with me. I can find a place for you.”