"The time, dear boy, is at hand when one side or the other must be turned down."
"What has happened?" The younger man's voice was tinged with alarm. This child of Destiny might be immune from fear, but those who stood near his person could not always accept without question the talisman of his limitless self-faith. Malone's might was theoretically invincible. Hamilton recognized the undernote of apprehension with a laugh of frank amusement; a laugh which brought to his eyes their most winning sparkle.
"The august over-lord of all the robber barons regards our reign as tributary to his own. He fancies that our loyal respect is thinly spread. We make too little obeisance. Too rarely we 'crook the pregnant hinges of the knee.' Therefore we must be crushed—if possible."
"You mean—"
"I mean that it is in the mind of this generalissimo, to call me before his staff and 'break' me in full view of his halted ranks."
The cheerful grin on the face of the prospective victim was so infectious and reassuring that his secretary laughed with revitalized confidence.
"But how did you learn of this conspiracy, sir?" he demanded.
"The throne which lacks its cabinet noir, Carl, is a very precarious one to sit upon." The "Great Bear" spoke casually. "Our secret service is fairly satisfactory. Also, we have a brain which, at times, prognosticates."
"There have been new developments, then?"
Hamilton Burton shrugged his shoulders.