“I don’t quite understand you,” was the cold reply.

“We want some one of the directors to steer this thing through for us,” Harris said.  “That’s the real milk in the cocoanut.”

Covington rose from his chair.  “I think it is time to terminate our interview.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Harris insisted.  “You and I have a mutual interest in this matter, and we’ve only just touched on it.”

The man’s effrontery amazed Covington, but before he could answer Harris continued: 

“I understand that Mr. Gorham is somewhat particular about the men he has around him, and you stand in pretty close.  Now he probably doesn’t know yet that you have been picking up blocks of New York Street Railways stock, and that you plan to clean up a big slice for yourself when this merger is put through.”

Covington’s face preserved its calm expression, though his smile seemed forced.

“So the object of your visit is blackmail?” he said.  “You will fail in this, as you will also fail in your effort to force Mr. Gorham’s hand.  You have been misinformed—­I have bought no stock.”

Harris took a package of papers from his pocket and selected a single sheet on which were written certain figures.

“I was afraid it might be a little hard to convince you that we had the goods on you,” he remarked.  “Those are the numbers of the certificates you hold, and here is the total number of shares.  Pretty good-looking list, isn’t it?—­and it’s worth a lot of money.”

“These mean nothing to me,” Covington insisted.  “I repeat, I do not own a share of stock in the New York Street Railways Company.”

“No, but your stool-pigeon does.  Why, bless your heart, not one share of that stock has changed hands these last twelve months without being run down by Brady.  Had to do it, you know, to make sure our deal would go through.  Brady owns that man who bought the stock for you body and soul.  Now, how does it look to you, son?  Will you come with me and talk with Brady, or shall I see the virtuous Mr. Gorham and show him what you’ve been doing on the side?”

Covington’s face was as impassive as ever when he turned again, looking his companion straight in the eye.

“You won’t do it?” Harris asked, surprised.  “Better think—­”

“I shall be very glad to see Mr. Brady with you,” was the unexpected answer.

XI

The Gorham residence was located on Riverside Drive near Grant’s Tomb, commanding a superb view of the Hudson River in both directions.  The massive stone house stood well back from the street in the midst of an extravagant amount of land for a New York city home, and the high wall protected a beautiful garden, in the use of which the whole family took much pleasure during the spring and fall.  Thither the Gorhams returned after their sojourn in Washington, glad to exchange their cramped quarters at the hotel