Part 19 (1/2)

”Of course you don't.” Tim's projecting balcony shook with the humor of it. ”But you'll be convinced when they take your mill from youse, me boy. It's a frame-up--and you're the goat.”

With which shot he took his departure, too shrewd to attempt any argument. He had left behind him a doubt. That was all he could do just now.

Before Tim was out of the building Killen was gumshoeing after him. He meant to find out whether O'Brien had been lying when he said he was going to call on one of his friends. Fifty yards behind him Killen followed, along Powers Avenue, down Pacific Street, to the Equitable Building. From the pilot of one of the elevators he learned that the big boss had got off at the seventh floor and gone straight into James Farnum's office.

His mind was instantly alive with suspicions tumbling over each other in chaotic incoherency. There was a deal of some kind on foot. Jeff's cousin was in it. Then Jeff must be playing him for a sucker. His teeth set with a snap.

Meanwhile Big Tim was having a heart to heart talk with James K. Farnum.

The young lawyer had risen in surprise at the entrance of O'Brien. The big fellow, laughing easily, had helped himself to a chair.

”Make yourself at home, Tim,” he said jauntily.

”Anything I can do for you, Mr. O'Brien?” James asked with stiff dignity.

”Sure. Or I wouldn't be here. Sit down. I'll not bite ye.”

The lawyer continued to stand.

”I've come to tell you that I'm a dammed fool, Mr. Farnum,” the boss grinned.

James bowed slightly. He did not know what was coming, but he had no intention of committing himself to anything as yet.

”In ever lettin' youse get away from me. I mistook yez for a kid glove.”

Big Tim gazed with palpable admiration at the cleancut figure, at the square cleft chin in the strong handsome face. It was his opinion this young man would go far, and that every step of the way would be in the interests of James K. Farnum. Shrewdly he guessed that the way to pierce that impa.s.sive front was through an appeal to vanity and to selfinterest.

James waited, alert and expressionless, but O'Brien, having made his apology, puffed in silence.

”I think you suggested some business that brought you,” James reminded him.

”You've got in you the makings of a big man. Nothing on the coast to touch youse, Mr. Farnum. And I didn't see it. I was sore on your name.

That was what was bitin' me. It's sure on Big Tim this time.”

None of the triumph that flooded Farnum reached the surface.

”I think I don't quite understand,” he said quietly.

”I'm eatin' humble pie because youse slipped wan over on me. You're the best campaign speaker in the state, bar none, boy as you are.”

James could not keep his gratified smile down. ”This heart-felt testimonial comes free, I take it,” he pretended to mock.

”Come off with youse,” O'Brien flung back good humoredly. ”I'm not here to hand you booquets, but to talk business. Here's the nub of it, me boy. You need me, and I need you.”

”I don't quite see how I need you, Mr. O'Brien.”

”That's because you're young yet and don't know the game. Let me tell you this.” The boss leaned forward, his hard eyes focused on Farnum.

”You'll never get anywhere so long as youse trail with that reform bunch. It's all hot air and tomfool theory. Populism and socialism! Take my wor-rd for it, there's nothin' to 'em.”

”I'm neither a populist nor a socialist, Mr. O'Brien.”