Callon swung round in his chair. All his carelessness had gone. He looked at Mr. Mudge, who stood drumming with his fingers on the writing-table.
"Oh," said Callon. "Tell me about it."
He walked over to a corner of the room which was unoccupied and sat down. Mudge sat beside him and lighted a cigar.
"I want a man to supervise, you understand. I don't want an expert. For I have engineers and technical men enough on the spot. And I don't want any one out of my office. I need some one, on whom I can rely, to keep me in touch with what is going on--some one quite outside my business and its associations."
"I see," said Callon. "The appointment would be--for how long?"
"Two years."
"And the salary would be good?"
Callon leaned back on the lounge as he put the question and he put it without any show of eagerness. Two years would be all the time he needed wherein to set himself straight; and it seemed the work would not be arduous.
"I think so," replied Mudge. "You shall judge for yourself. It would be two thousand a year."
Callon did not answer for a little while, simply because he could not trust himself to speak. His heart was beating fast. Two thousand a year for two years, plus the sum for his election expenses! He would be able to laugh at that unknown enemy who was striking at him from the dark.