"It's all a little joke, my dear fellow," said he, "and you are liable
to spoil everything with your bungling. Here," drawing; a roll of bills
from his pocket, "don't let us waste any more time. I'm busy."

The man chuckled and waved aside the bribe.

"You certainly are, sir; you're _very_ busy, just now! But I think the
sergeant over at the station will give you some leisure. And listen, Mr.
Mershone: I've got it in for that policeman you fixed; he's a cheeky
individual and a new man. I'm inclined to think this night's work will
cost him his position. And the patrol, which I never can get when I want
it, seems under your direct management. These things have got to be
explained, and I need your help. Ready, sir?"

Mershone looked grave, but he was not wholly checkmated. Thank heaven
the bungling detective had missed the departure of Louise altogether.
Charlie's arrest at this critical juncture was most unfortunate, but
need not prove disastrous to his cleverly-laid plot. He decided it would
be best to go quietly with the "plain-clothes man."

Weldon had become nearly frantic in his demands to be released when
Mershone was ushered into the station. He started at seeing his enemy
and began to fear a thousand terrible, indefinite things, knowing how
unscrupulous Mershone was. But the Waldorf detective, who seemed
friendly with the police sergeant, made a clear, brief statement of the
facts he had observed. Mershone denied the accusation; the bruiser
denied it; the policeman and the driver of the patrol wagon likewise
stolidly denied it. Indeed, they had quite another story to tell.