yhow. They say figures don't lie, but you and I know better.
I only wish they didn't."

"Have you caught them lying, here?"

"I have. And--it has made me rather ill. You'd better prepare yourself
for a shock."

It was nearly an hour later that Gray telephoned to Senator Lowe, the
bank's attorney, and to Bennett Swope, the latter being the only member
of the board available at short notice. This done, he wrote a note to
Henry Nelson. In spite of his effort to control his hand, it shook when
he signed his name, and on second thought he destroyed the missive.
There is something ominous about the written word. If Nelson grew
suspicious, he'd never come.

Gray stepped into Gus Briskow's office and asked him to call the former
vice-president, first, however, explaining exactly what he wished Gus
to say. The ruse succeeded; then Gray returned to his own office. He
drew a deep breath. Within him he felt a ferocious eagerness take fire,
for it seemed to him that the day of reckoning had come. Henry's
behavior was now easily understandable; the fellow was cringing,
cowering in anticipation of a second blow. Well, the whip was in Gray's
hands, and he proposed to use it ruthlessly--to sink the lash, to cut
to the bone, to leave scars such as Henry had left upon him. Nor was
that his only weapon. There was, for instance, Old Bell Nelson's honor.
If coercion failed, there were rewards, inducements. Oh, Henry would
have to speak! The Nelson fortune, or what remained for salvage from
the wreck thereof, the bank itself, they were pawns which Gray could,
and would, sacrifice, if necessary. His hunger for a sight of "Bob" had
become unbearable. Freedom to declare his overwhelming love--and that
love he knew was no immature infatuation, but the deep-set passion of a
full-grown man--was worth any price he might be called upon to pay.
Yes, Henry would speak the truth to-day or--for one of them, at least,
there would be an end to the feud.

Gray, too, kept a revolver in his desk. He removed it and placed it in
his pocket.

Buddy Briskow chose this, of all moments, to thrust his grinning visage
into the door and to inquire, "Got time for me now, Mr. Gray?"

"Not now, Buddy."

"When?"

"Why--almost any other time."

"I wouldn't bother you, but it's important and I--I promised a certain
party--" The youth's face reddened, his smile widened vacuously.

"Later, if you don't mind."

It was plain that Buddy did mind; nevertheless, he