n lists, every deal you've made with men like Pete
Hathaway and McDarragh, has had its witnesses, and by the gods,
Hardwick, they'll testify--every man of them!"

Again the vice-president sprang from his chair, but this time it was to
walk the floor with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. The
listener in the musicians' gallery found a seat and sat down to let the
intoxicating, overwhelming joy of it all have its will of him. In the
fulness of time the tramping magnate who had been so crushingly
out-generalled in his own chosen field came to stand before the big man,
who was still quietly smoking in the sham-Sheraton arm-chair.

"You spoke of the appointment of a special prosecuting attorney, David,"
he said in a harsh monotone. "Who will it be?"

"You've guessed it already, I reckon. It'll be the boy, Hardwick.
Hemingway will appoint him if he is willing to serve."

"He's taken our retainer!" snapped the vice-president.

"Not much, he hasn't! you hired him for wages, and if he wants to
resign--he has resigned, by the way--and take another job, I reckon he
can do it without breaking any of the Ten Commandments."

"We can't stand for that--you know we can't."

"No; I don't think you can--not as a corporation. Besides the flock of
witnesses that we can drum up, he'll have those letters that we were
talking about a while back. You missed fire on that, too, Hardwick. What
your man dynamited out of Evan's office safe, and what you destroyed,
were only clever copies. The real letters were stolen by the boy's
friends, and little as you may believe it, the object of that theft was
to give you this last chance. The boy was mighty hot under the collar,
and we couldn't be sure that he wouldn't start the fireworks before the
band was ready to play. He would have started them, too, if his match
hadn't been taken away from him."

Mr. McVickar walked around the other end of the table-desk and sat down
heavily.

"You've spoken twice of a 'last chance' David," he said grittingly.
"What is it?"

"It's the chance I gave you in the beginning. First, let me tell you
what I reckon you're already admitting. You're whipped, Hardwick; your
slate's broken, and your man Reynolds hasn't a ghost of a show--he nor
any of the others on your string. You haven't made a move that we
haven't caught onto just about as soon as you put your fingers on the
piece you meant to move. For instance, that little box up there in the
beaming jus