decide upon the value of my retainer, and my services in its behalf
would be confined strictly to professional ones."

Mr. Flint drummed on the table.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

"I mean that I would not engage, for a fee or a pass, to fight the
political battles of a railroad, or undertake any political manipulation
in its behalf whatever."

Mr. Flint leaned forward aggressively.

"How long do you think a railroad would pay dividends if it did not
adopt some means of defending itself from the blackmail politician of
the State legislatures, Mr. Vane? The railroads of which I have the
honour to be president pay a heavy tag in this and other States. We
would pay a much heavier one if we didn't take precautions to protect
ourselves. But I do not intend to quarrel with you, Mr. Vane," he
continued quickly, perceiving that Austen was about to answer him,
"nor do I wish to leave you with the impression that the Northeastern
Railroads meddle unduly in politics."

Austen knew not how to answer. He had not gone there to discuss this
last and really great question with Mr. Flint, but he wondered whether
the president actually thought him the fledgling he proclaimed. Austen
laid his pass on Mr. Flint's desk, and rose.

"I assure you, Mr. Flint, that the spirit which prompted my visit was
not a contentious one. I cannot accept the pass, simply because I do not
wish to be retained."

Mr. Flint eyed him. There was a mark of dignity, of silent power, on
this tall scapegrace of a son of Hilary Vane that the railroad president
had missed at first--probably because he had looked only for the
scapegrace. Mr. Flint ardently desired to treat the matter in the
trifling aspect in which he believed he saw it, to carry it off
genially. But an instinct not yet formulated told the president that
he was face to face with an enemy whose potential powers were not to be
despised, and he bristled in spite of himself.

"There is no statute I know of by which a lawyer can be compelled to
accept a retainer against his will, Mr. Vane," he replied, and overcame
himself with an effort. "But I hope that you will permit me," he added
in another tone, "as an old friend of your father's and as a man of
some little experience in the world, to remark that intolerance is
a characteristic of youth. I had it in the days of Mr. Isaac D.
Worthington, whom you do not remember. I am not addicted to flattery,
but I hope and believe you have a c