criminal operations so
graphically," cried Mr. Flint, interrupting, "you are involving the
reputation of one of the best citizens the State ever had--your own
father."

Austen Vane leaned forward across the desk, and even Mr. Flint (if the
truth were known) recoiled a little before the anger he had aroused. It
shot forth from Austen's eyes, proclaimed itself in the squareness of the
face, and vibrated in every word he spoke.

"Mr. Flint," he said, "I refrain from comment upon your methods of
argument. There were many years in which my father believed the practices
which he followed in behalf of your railroad to be necessary--and hence
justified. And I have given you the credit of holding the same belief.
Public opinion would not, perhaps, at that time have protected your
property from political blackmail. I merely wished you to know, Mr.
Flint, that there is no use in attempting to deceive me in regard to the
true colour of those practices. It is perhaps useless for me to add that
in my opinion you understand as well as I do the real reason for Mr.
Vane's resignation and illness. Once he became convinced that the
practices were wrong, he could no longer continue them without violating
his conscience. He kept his word to you--at the risk of his life, and, as
his son, I take a greater pride in him to-day than I ever have before."

Austen got to his feet. He was formidable even to Mr. Flint, who had met
many formidable, and angry men in his time--although not of this type.
Perhaps--who can say?--he was the in the mind of the president
unconscious embodiment of the Northeastern of the new forces which had
arisen against him,--forces which he knew in his secret soul he could not
combat, because they were the irresistible forces of things not material.
All his life he had met and successfully conquered forces of another
kind, and put down with a strong hand merely physical encroachments.

Mr. Flint's nature was not an introspective one, and if he had tried, he
could not have accounted for his feelings. He was angry--that was
certain. But he measured the six feet and more of Austen Vane with his
eye, and in spite of himself experienced the compelled admiration of one
fighting man for another. A thought, which had made itself vaguely felt
at intervals in the past half hour, shot suddenly and poignantly through
Mr. Flint's mind what if this young man, who dared in spite of every
interest to oppose him, should in the apparentl