“Next time you want to dig a mine under anybody,” I went on, “don't hire Saxe. Really I feel sorry for you—to have such a clever scheme messed by such an ass.”
“If you don't mind, I'd like to know what you're talking about,” said he, with his patient, bored look.
“As you and Roebuck own the governor, I know your little law ends my little canal.”
“Still I don't know what you're talking about,” drawled he. “You are always suspecting everybody of double-dealing. I gather that this is another instance of your infirmity. Really, Blacklock, the world isn't wholly made up of scoundrels.”
“I know that,” said I. “And I will even admit that its scoundrels are seldom made up wholly of scoundrelism. Even Roebuck would rather do the decent thing, if he can do it without endangering his personal interests. As for you—I regard you as one of the decentest men I ever knew—outside of business. And even there, I believe you'd keep your word, as long as the other fellow kept his.”
“Thank you,” said he, bowing ironically. “This flattery makes me suspect you've come to get something.”
“On the contrary,” said I. “I want to give something. I want to give you my coal mines.”
“I thought you'd see that our offer was fair,” said he. “And I'm glad you have changed your mind about quarreling with your best friends. We can be useful to you, you to us. A break would be silly.”
“That's the way it looks to me,” I assented. And I decided that my sharp talk to Roebuck had set them to estimating my value to them.
“Sam Ellersly,” Langdon presently remarked, “tells me he's campaigning hard for you at the Travelers. I hope you'll make it. We're rather a slow crowd; a few men like you might stir things up.”