"Is it Mr. Crockett, the financier, or a house-breaker?" Merriam retorted.
Mr. Crockett laughed, but it was an unpleasant, forced laugh.
"Since you do not answer my question," he said, "I don't see that I need answer yours. See here," he continued, with a change of tone, "how much is it worth to you to turn over to me those pictures you took last night--films and all, of course--and get out of this?"
"You won't accomplish anything by insulting me!" cried Merriam, a flare of youthful anger somewhat impairing his dignity.
"Insulting you!" echoed Crockett sneeringly. "My dear sir, as a complete impostor you can hardly expect to get away with that pose. I'll admit you're good at it. That impersonation of the Senator before the Urban Club this noon was a masterpiece. But what's the game? Does Rockwell really suppose he can swing Senator Norman over permanently to the so-called Reformers? Let me tell you that as soon as the real Norman is on his feet again Thompson and I and the rest of us will get hold of him and bring him around in no time. We know too many things about your handsome Boy Senator. He can't shake us now. So what's the use? Unless," he added suddenly, "the plan is to kill him off and substitute you permanently!"
"Hardly so desperate as that," said Merriam, smiling. The other man's long speech had given him time to recover himself.
"Well, then, why not make a good thing out of it for yourself and get away while you can? It isn't as if no one had suspected you. I not only suspect but know. I haven't told any one else yet, but you can hardly expect me to keep your secret indefinitely."
"You forget the pictures," said Merriam, as sweetly as he could.
Crockett obviously mastered a "damn" and chased the expression that rose to accompany it from his face.
"Let's keep to business," he said. "How much is Rockwell paying you for this job?"