“Exactly,” said Winthrop.
“That’s all! Stop the car,” cried Mr. Schwab. His manner was commanding. It vibrated with triumph. His eyes glistened with wicked satisfaction.
“Stop the car?” demanded Winthrop, “what do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Mr. Schwab dramatically, “that I’ve got you where I want you, thank you. You have killed Peabody dead as a cigar butt! Now I can tell them how his friends tried to bribe me. Why do you think I came in your car? For what money you got? Do you think you can stack up your roll against the New York Journal’s, or against Tammany’s?” His shrill voice rose exultantly. “Why, Tammany ought to make me judge for this! Now, let me down here,” he commanded, “and next time, don’t think you can take on ‘Izzy’ Schwab and get away with it.”
They were passing Grant’s Tomb, and the car was moving at a speed that Mr. Schwab recognized was in excess of the speed limit.
“Do you hear me?” he demanded, “let me down!”
To his dismay Winthrop’s answer was in some fashion to so juggle with the shining brass rods that the car flew into greater speed. To “Izzy” Schwab it seemed to scorn the earth, to proceed by leaps and jumps. But, what added even more to his mental discomfiture was, that Winthrop should turn, and slowly and familiarly wink at him.
As through the window of an express train, Mr. Schwab saw the white front of Claremont, and beyond it the broad sweep of the Hudson. And then, without decreasing its speed, the car like a great bird swept down a hill, shot under a bridge, and into a partly paved street. Mr. Schwab already was two miles from his own bailiwick. His surroundings were unfamiliar. On the one hand were newly erected, untenanted flat houses with the paint still on the window panes, and on the other side, detached villas, a roadhouse, an orphan asylum, a glimpse of the Hudson.
“Let me out,” yelled Mr. Schwab, “what you trying to do? Do you think a few blocks’ll make any difference to a telephone? You think you’re damned smart, don’t you? But you won’t feel so fresh when I get on the long distance. You let me down,” he threatened, “or, I’ll——”
With a sickening skidding of wheels, Winthrop whirled the car round a corner and into the Lafayette Boulevard, that for miles runs along the cliff of the Hudson.