|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 33
At that hour Riverside Drive was empty, and after a gasp of
relief, Mr. Schwab resumed the attack.
"Now, then," he said sharply, "don't go any further. What is
this you want to talk about?"
"How much will the Journal give you for this story of
yours?" asked Winthrop.
Mr. Schwab smiled mysteriously.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because," said Winthrop, "I think I could offer you something
better."
"You mean," said the police-court lawyer cautiously, "you will
make it worth my while not to tell the truth about what I
saw?"
"Exactly," said Winthrop.
"That's all! Stop the car," cried Mr. Schwab. His manner was
commanding. It vibrated with triumph. His eyes glistened
with wicked satisfaction.
"Stop the car?" demanded Winthrop, "what do you mean?"
"I mean," said Mr. Schwab dramatically, "that I've got you
where I want you, thank you. You have killed Peabody dead as
a cigar butt! Now I can tell them how his friends tried to
bribe me. Why do you think I came in your car? For what
money YOU got? Do you think you can stack up your roll
against the New York Journal's, or against Tammany's?" His
shrill voice rose exultantly. "Why, Tammany ought to make me
judge for this! Now, let me down here," he commanded, "and
next time, don't think you can take on `Izzy' Schwab and get
away with it."
They were passing Grant's Tomb, and the car was moving at a
speed that Mr. Schwab recognized was in excess of the speed
limit.
"Do you hear me?" he demanded, "let me down!"
To his dismay Winthrop's answer was in some fashion to so
juggle with the shining brass rods that the car flew into
greater speed. To "Izzy" Schwab it seemed to scorn the earth,
to proceed by leaps and jumps. But, what added even more to
his mental discomfiture was, that Winthrop should turn, and
slowly and familiarly wink at him.
As through the window of an express train, Mr. Schwab saw the
white front of Claremont, and beyond it the broad sweep of the
Hudson. And, then, without decreasing its speed, the car like
a great bird, swept down a hill, shot under a bridge, and into
a partly paved street. Mr. Schwab already was two miles from
his own bailiwick. His surroundings were unfamiliar. On the
one hand were newly erected, untenanted flat houses with the
paint still on the window panes, and on the other side,
detached villas, a roadhouse, an orphan asylum, a glimpse of
the Hudson.
"Let me out," yelled Mr. Schwab, "what you trying to do? Do
you think a few blocks'll make any difference to a telephone?
You think you're damned smart, don't you? But you won't feel
so fresh when I get on the long distance. You let me down,"
he threatened, "or, I'll----"
With a sickening skidding of wheels, Winthrop whirled the car
round a corner and into the Lafayette Boulevard, that for
miles runs along the cliff of the Hudson.
"Yes," asked Winthrop, "WHAT will you do?"
On one side was a high steep bank, on the other many trees,
and through them below, the river. But there were no houses,
and at half-past eight in the morning those who later drive
upon the boulevard were still in bed.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|