d neglected to
show them to Sarah, he knew now just what reason underlay his secrecy.
Like Old Tom, he felt that his action was in a way more or less
extenuated by circumstance. And still mindful of Dexter Allison's odd
moment or two of guarded antagonism that very morning, he gradually led
the conversation around to more recent things.

"I suppose you have had your conference with Mr. Allison, Steve?" he
suggested in a matter-of-fact way.

Instantly at that question all the boyishness left the other's face.
He looked away and looked back again, very deliberately.

"No more than a word," he answered. "He asked me to come down again,
toward the end of the week, if I could get away. He said no doubt I
would want to spend all the time I could to-day with you and Miss
Sarah."

"Of course," Caleb exclaimed, "of course! I see. Is it--is it
unethical if I ask, privately, your opinion of this job which the East
Coast Company has on its hands? Do you believe they can swing it in
time to fulfill all their obligations?"

Again there followed a moment's pause while Steve's eyes roved
thoughtfully around the room.

"Mr. Elliott wouldn't have risked every cent he has," he finally
replied, "unless I had assured him that it wasn't so very much more
than a man-sized gamble. Nor Mr. Ainnesley, either, I think. So that
puts it up to me pretty squarely, doesn't it? We'll have to win
through--because we have to, now!"

"Quite so!" murmured Caleb again.

He studied a long time over his next words, and it was a very vivid
vision of a rigid little figure in a wrecked black velvet suit--a
vision of a bleak-faced boy with bruised lips who had insisted upon
going back downtown for Miss Sarah's eggs--which eventually overbore
his distaste for anything that might savor of disloyalty to a friend.

"Of course there could arise unforeseen circumstances," he ventured.
"Unforeseen interference which, unless one guarded against it, might
defeat every effort."

The room seemed very, very quiet.

"Of course," came the calm answer at last; and Caleb could not see
Steve's face behind the cupped hands at his pipe bowl, "of
course--unless one more or less guarded against it."

And there, just as calmly, they dropped it. The topic was not
discussed again that night, unless a bit of news which Fat Joe Morgan
himself delivered might be construed as somehow relative. Fat Joe had
been driving for an hour, silent some of the time, but for