"Just that," he returned. "You are making millions out of this
enterprise, and I consider this is one of the places where you earn
them."

"Not if every one of the millions you mention were multiplied a thousand
times, Mr. Rogers, do I say one word to the public to induce it to part
with its money--not a word that will not hold you and Mr. Rockefeller,
Stillman, and the City Bank to a full responsibility--not if, on the
other hand, I become a pauper."

It was out. I know that the deadly earnestness I felt was in my voice,
for though I spoke in a low tone I thought my head would burst until the
last word was spoken. We looked at each other--glared is not the word to
define that white-hot yet frozen, "another-step-and-I-shoot" look which
of all expressions of which the human face is capable is most intense
and dangerous. I did not flinch. I did not know what he would do, but I
saw my words impressing on his mind the absolute conviction that for
once he was face to face with a resolution no power of his could alter.
Slowly his anger, his will, seemed to subside, but as they did I was
aware intuitively that he had changed tactics and was coming at me from
another direction. In an instant his whole being seemed to relax and he
dropped into a chair with a sigh of relief as he said:

"All right, Lawson. You've thought it out, I see. You are making a bad
mistake, but as your mind is made up, I can do the only thing left to
do--call the whole business off for the time being."

I had not served as Mr. Rogers' pike-carrier in vain. Superb actor
though he is, I saw his bluff, and quick as a hair-trigger called it.

"Is that your decision, Mr. Rogers?" I asked, almost before the last
word was out of his mouth. I did not attempt to shade the
"If-it-is-I'm-off" tone of my voice.

He replied slowly and naturally, as though he were taking his decision
right off the scales:

"Yes, I think so."

"Then we will call it off for good. I've hung so long by the heels on
this whole matter that anything is better than a further wait. I'm for
Boston on the next train, and by to-morrow I'll have figured out where
we stand."

I started for the door.

"Just a minute." His voice was as indifferent as though no tremendous
issue were at stake, for Henry H. Rogers is of the iron-willed breed
whom peril never betrays into trepidation. He would throw dice for his
life as casually as one of your Wall Street tipsters would for a cigar,
and he