me--and to Harrington."

"You are mistaken," said Plank, rising. "Good afternoon."

Quarrier rose, too. "You decline to discuss the matter?" he asked.

"It has been discussed sufficiently."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To see for myself how afraid of me you really are," said Plank. "Now I
know, and so do you."

"You desire to make it a personal matter?" inquired Quarrier, in a low
voice, his face dead white in the late sunlight which illuminated the
room.

"Personal? No--impersonal; because there could be absolutely nothing
personal between us, Mr. Quarrier; and the only thing in the world that
there ought to be between us are a few stout, steel bars. Beg pardon
for talking shop. I'm a shopkeeper, and I'm in the steel business, and I
lack opportunities for cultivation. Good day."

"Mr. Plank--"

"Mr. Quarrier, I want to tell you something. Never before, in business
differences, has private indignation against any individual interfered
or modified my course of action. It does now; but it does not dictate
my policy toward you; it merely, as I say, modifies it. I am perfectly
aware of what I am doing; what social disaster I am inviting by this
attitude toward you personally; what financial destruction I am courting
in arousing the wrath of the Algonquin Trust Company and of the powerful
interests intrenched behind Inter-County Electric. I know what the
lobby is; I know what judge cannot be counted on; I know my peril and my
chances, every one; and I take them--every one. For it is a good fight,
Mr. Quarrier; it will be talked of for years to come, wonderingly; not
because of your effrontery, not because of my obstinacy, but because
such monstrous immorality could ever have existed in this land of ours.
Your name, Harrington's, mine, will have become utterly forgotten long,
long before the horror of these present conditions shall cease to be
remembered."

He stretched out one ponderous arm, pointing full between Quarrier's
unwinking eyes.

"Take your fighting chance--it is the cleanest thing you ever touched;
and use it cleanly, or there'll be no mercy shown you when your time
comes. Let the courts alone--do you hear me? Let the legislature alone.
Keep your manicured hands off the ermine. And tell Harrington to shove
his own cold, splay fingers into his own pockets for a change. They'll
be warmer than his feet by this time next year."

For a moment he towered there, powerful, bulky, menacing; then his ar