Hamilton Burton’s eyes grew flinty.  “Do you not recognize in me one of the heads of Consolidated?” he curtly inquired.

Already the active mind of this successful and tricky manipulator of politics was piecing together fragments and glimpsing the connection between the threatened scandal and Burton’s anxiety to buy.  He became wary, covering himself with an assumption of boldness.

“To be candid, Mr. Burton, your effort to augment your holdings so largely and suddenly on the eve of the annual meeting might indicate that the interests of yourself and Malone run counter each to each.  Why should I antagonize those in supreme power?”

“I shall be equally frank.”  Hamilton Burton came closer and his lips drew themselves in a taut line.  “Tomorrow I shall wrest from the Malone gang this supreme power of which you speak.  I mean to force Malone and Harrison to their knees and to assume complete mastery.”

The state senator lifted his brows ironically.  “It’s a large contract,” he commented.  “So you call on me to slip you the ace you need to fill.  Well, I can’t see it.”

“Then I’ll assist you.  I expect you to remain, as you have shown yourself in the past, a practical man.  I expect you to realize that you have more to gain by allying yourself with a victorious leader than in walking the plank at the heels of Malone and Harrison.”

“I am so practical,” the other reminded him, “that I want stronger evidence than mere assertion that you can overthrow these men.”

“At all events I can overthrow you.”  The words were suddenly fierce.

Hamilton Burton spread on the table several sheets of paper, drawn from the breast-pocket of his evening-coat and previously from Ruferton’s portfolio.  “That memoranda in the hands of certain civic-reform societies would sound the death knell of your political future.  You talk of what evidence you want—­that would satisfy a grand jury.”

The master schemer glanced hurriedly at the too-familiar contents of the typed pages and gasped.

“A half-million dollars!” he exclaimed weakly.

“Incontrovertible evidence,” Hamilton assured him, “as to how you, while a member of the state senate, spent five hundred thousand dollars to secure the Coal and Ore charter.  Malfeasance, bribery—­you know the legal terms in which such conduct might be defined better than I.”

For a moment Hendricks laughed—­then with a well-simulated coolness he retorted.  “A weapon hardly available to your hand, Mr. Burton.  You will recall that I acted for you.  To accuse me as agent would be to convict yourself as principal.”

But Hamilton’s laugh was the more confident.

“Think again.  I may have erred in granting you too free a hand as an agent, but I left the details to you.  My only offense was over-confidence in you.  It was not I who debauched a senate.  Moreover, this accusation will not come from me—­ostensibly.  It will come through the press tomorrow morning—­and come hot.”