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.

"Pleased with myself? Not much! Lorelei reformed me. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Good! I wondered if you took all the credit to yourself. Lorelei did do it, and I don't intend to let you forget the fact. Now, about this Lynn woman--you have been stung, Bob."

"You think so? I wonder--"

"Don't be a fool!"

"You think it is a frame-up?"

"What else could it be? Think!"

Bob exploded in desperation: "I can't think, with my wife in this condition. However, if you're right I'm going to see Max Melcher and tell him about Lorelei. Then I'm going to make him wait."

"Make him? MAKE HIM?"

"Yes, I'm going to MAKE him wait." Bob's lips were white; he raised his eyes slowly, and Merkle saw that they were heavy with resentment.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the latter. "Where is your common sense? Never use violence; it is antiquated and expensive. Suppose you let me handle this thing in my own way."

"Have you any plan?"

"I'm never without one. They're not all good plans, understand; some are very bad, in fact. But, you see, I have been expecting something like this for a long time. I saw blackmail in your brother-in-law's face the night Jarvis Hammon was killed. I don't sleep much, so I have time to think, and, being dyspeptic, I'm always suspicious. Dyspepsia has spared me many disappointments; people are never any worse than I believe them to be."

"You don't believe Jim is in this, too? Why, he is Lorelei's brother!"

"What possible difference can that make to a man of his stamp?" the banker demanded, querulously. "Don't you know your own brother-in-law? To a conscienceless rogue it's no more unnatural to conspire against one's relatives than against total strangers. It is the logical thing to do. It is nature's method of protecting the stranger, and it's one of the penalties for having relatives. You are young and sentimental, so I sha'n't tell you what my plan is. Meanwhile, though, you may tell Lilas that you have acquainted me with the situation and that I am willing to spend a lot of money to avoid publicity."

"Do you mean you are willing to pay her?"

Merkle smiled sourly. "Let her put her own construction on the statement."

Beyond this Merkle would give Bob little satisfaction, but later in the day, after a short telephone conversation, he called at one of the up-town political clubs and inquired for Senator Sabin. The Senator was expecting him, and Merkle lost no time in explaining his trouble.

Nature had endowed Sabin with the faculty of hearing more than people said and saying less than people heard. He sat now with a graven smile upon his fat, good-humored face, but with eyes that were serious and watchful. Only once did he interrupt his caller's recital, and then at the mention of Inspector Snell.

"Snell!" he exclaimed, sharply. "Are you sure?"

"So the woman says."

Sabin nodded; he carefully matched his fingers, tip to tip, and then relapsed into silence. Merkle went on with his story, feeling the while as if he were addressing an audience of two men, one a sympathetic, convivial soul, the other a baffling, sinister person behind a mask. But when Sabin finally spoke it was as neither; his voice was friendly and matter-of-fact.

"This is a bad business, John."

The banker broke out, irritably: "Now don't begin that! I have a pastor who keeps me in spiritual uncertainty, and a doctor who torments me physically, and a business that's hell in both directions. I didn't come here to swap tears; I want help."

"It may cost--"

"Of course it may. I don't expect you to square it with a bunch of double English violets, but it can be squared, and it MUST be, if only for the sake of Hammon's women folks. It won't serve any good purpose to air that old scandal."

The Senator nodded. "First we will have to eliminate the gang-- clean them out." He made an expansive, eloquent gesture. "You don't object?"

"Kill 'em, if necessary," Merkle growled, vindictively.

"Very well; I'll do my best."

"Then it's done."

Merkle rose with relief, shook the Senator's limp and pudgy hand, then departed, knowing that the secret of Jarvis Hammon's death was quite as safe in Sabin's keeping as in his own. That plump, imperturbable politician had long been one of the triumvirate that ruled the city, and Merkle knew him to be the tomb of confessions far more startling than this; he knew also that although Sabin took toll of the public in the way of all powerful political rulers he put no price on his favors.

That evening Inspector Snell occupied the same chair in which Merkle had sat, and found himself the target of Sabin's veiled stare. Snell was a bulky, forceful, unimaginative man. He was vastly impressive in his uniform, but the Senator's questions appeared to bewilder him.

"What do you mean--Melcher?" the Inspector finally inquired.

"He claims you give him protection."

The officer's face purpled. "Oh! he does, does he? Well, you'd know if I did, wouldn't you? That's how them fellows get along, by selling something they can't deliver."

"Ever take any of his money?"

"Not a cent."

"What do you know about the killing of Jarvis Hammon?"

"Hammon, the steel man? Why, he wasn't killed, was he?" Snell was plainly puzzled. "Well, well!" he confessed, when the truth had been gently eased into his mind. "That's news! I'm much obliged for the tip, Senator."

"Wait a minute. That's not the idea at all," Sabin said, quickly. "The woman acted in self-defense."

"Ha! They all do. I'm thinking about myself. These are big names-- this is a big case, and it will do me a lot of good to work it out."

"It will break you," the Senator murmured, quietly. "You are getting ahead just as fast as it is possible, Snell. Cut out this grave-robbing stuff and make some real friends. Understand? You need friends of the right sort, and this is your chance."

For some time longer the two men talked guardedly. At last the Inspector rose to leave, saying: "I think I have all the details now, and I'll scatter the gang as quick as possible. I can hang something on the woman easily enough, and the boys, too, but it's different with Max. He has a drag."

"Leave Max to me. Do you need money?"

"Not from your friends, Senator," the officer disclaimed, hastily. "I'm only too glad to help out in any way I can."

To Bob Wharton the suspense of the next few days was trying in the extreme, particularly as Merkle kept declaring there was nothing to report, while Jimmy Knight betrayed an apprehension so pitiable as well-nigh to banish suspicion of his complicity in the plot. But before long there came to pass in various quarters certain events which gave Bob cause for thought. Strangely enough, these events, one and all, had some effect, either direct or indirect, upon the habitues of Tony the Barber's place. To begin with, Tony himself was summoned to headquarters and forced to spend a distressing half-hour with a harsh, ill-natured police official, as a result of which the pinochle-room at the rear of the barber- shop was closed and the door nailed up. With an unnatural show of indignation Tony warned its frequenters to stay away from his shop. Naturally he had recourse to Melcher, who promised to square the misunderstanding. But for once Melcher failed. When his efforts proved fruitless he was puzzled. So was Tony. The man upon whom Max relied for help was likewise at a loss, and finally hazarded the opi............