"You are a terrible man," she whimpered, as he walked out and left them to their sins.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FIRST BLOW.
Mayor Birmingham and Grahame, summoned by messengers, met him in the forever-deserted offices of Sister Claire. He made ready for them by turning on all the lights, setting forth a cheerful bottle and some soda from Claire's hidden ice-box, and lighting a cigar. Delight ran through his blood like fire. At last he had his man on the hip, and the vision of that toss which he meant to give him made his body tingle from the roots of his hair to the points of his toes. However, the case was not for him to deal with alone. Birmingham, the man of weight, prudence, fairness, the true leader, really owned the situation. Grahame, experienced journalist, had the right to manage the publicity department of this delicious scandal. His own task would be to hold Claire in the traces, and drive her round the track, show the world her paces, past the judge's stand. Ah, to see the face of the Minister as he read the story of exposure—her exposure and his own shame!
The two men stared at his comfortable attitude in that strange inn, and fairly gasped at the climax of his story.
"The devil's in you. No one but you would have thought out such a scheme," said Grahame, recalling the audacity, the cleverness, the surprises of his friend's career from the California episode to the invasion of Ireland. "Great heavens! but you have the knack of seizing the hinge of things."
"I think we have Livingstone and his enterprise in the proper sort of hole," Arthur answered. "The question is how to use our advantage?"
The young men turned to Birmingham with deference.
"The most thorough way," said the Mayor, after complimenting Arthur on his astonishing success, "would be to hale Claire before the courts for fraud, and subpœna all our distinguished enemies. That course has some disagreeable consequences, however."