“Why doesn’t Snell get busy?” he inquired, blankly, at which Lilas lost her patience.

“Don’t you see he’s in on the graft?  Snell doesn’t want to pinch us.  He doesn’t care how Jarvis died, any more than Max or Goldberg cares.  They want money, money—­coin!  That’s how things are run in this town, that’s how the police are squared.  If you don’t come across they’ll try to show that it was murder instead of self-defense.  Remember it was my gun that killed—­that did the work—­ and it was found in Hammon’s library.”

Before Bob’s arrival Lilas had prepared herself for this scene by a liberal dose of cocaine, but the strain of her acting had exhausted her strength; her brain was tiring.  Accordingly she excused herself, and, once in her bathroom, prepared a fresh solution of the powder, leaving Bob the while to meditate upon his plight.  When she returned her eyes were brighter and she had regained the mastery of her unruly nerves.  Bob looked up with a drawn expression that almost moved her to pity.

“How much do they want?” he inquired, dully.

“Don’t be a fool, Bob.  You helped me; I won’t see you gouged.  No matter what you gave they’d frame you over again.  We’d better face it.”

“I can’t face it,” he cried.  “Alone, I would in a minute—­no court in the world would hold Merkle and me for what we did—­but I can’t let ’em hurt my wife and my kid.  Why, Lorelei would die of fright.”  He choked and stammered.  “They want money.  How much?”

“Merkle is the man they’re after.”

“How much?” he insisted.

“It would take a hundred thousand to square it.”

Bob gasped.  “This is the worst dream I ever had.”

“I told you I couldn’t understand their figures.  But Merkle’s a millionaire.  If you had ten dollars you’d give one to square a copper, wouldn’t you?  Well, your name’s Wharton, and his is Merkle.  There’s fifty million dollars behind those two names, and Max knows it.  If I had the price I’d pay it to save you people who helped me when I needed help, but—­what have I got?  I told Max he could go to hell, and you’d better tell him the same thing.  Now—­ what do you want me to do?”

Bob’s lips were white.  “Stand pat and wait until I—­rob a bank. 
I’ve got to buy three weeks’ time, no matter what it costs.”

When he had gone Lilas ’phoned first to Melcher and reported progress; then she called up Jim.  The latter appeared in person that evening, and the two sat until late talking guardedly.

CHAPTER XXVI

There was but one man to whom Bob dared appeal in this unhappy situation, and that man was John Merkle.  The banker listened gravely to Bob’s recital, then inquired with apparent irrelevance: 

“You are mighty fond of Lorelei, aren’t you?”

“Why, of course.”

Merkle nodded reflectively.  “I was mistaken in you,” he admitted.  “I didn’t think the marriage would last.  I suppose you are immensely pleased with yourself—­reformed character, aren’t you?” His face expressed a cynical inquiry.