“You haven’t answered my question.” Mellen’s persistence was not offensive. He might have been a Sunday-school teacher trying to make a shy boy tell how good he was.
“Mr. Mellen, the chemical laboratory which you built for the Lakeside University is the finest in the country. Professor Ogden is one of our foremost scientists. Ask him if it is possible for any living man to make gold.”
“I’d rather ask you if you make it?” The voice was still of the Sunday-school, and Grinnell the favourite but shy scholar.
“If you insist upon asking such questions I insist upon refusing to answer them. If I did make it, would I tell you? You’d tell everybody.”
“Indeed not!” exclaimed Mellen eagerly.
He could not help it. He was almost human.
“Well, Mr. Dawson,” turning to the president, “I’ll deposit these eleven millions.”
“You have more gold with you?” asked Mr. Dawson.
The young man felt in his vest pockets, ostentatiously, one after another. Then he shook his head and said: “No.”
Mr. Dawson smiled to hide his anger. “I meant Assay Office checks,” he explained.