“He won't talk—says he was in his library all the time.”
“We know better than that. Don't we, Kidder?” said Robison, with a smile.
“Yes; but you don't have to print the official statement as though it were the truth, and I have. How can I say he lied when I can't prove that he wasn't in his library? If I knew the whole truth—”
“The whole truth?” echoed Mr. Robison, with the shade of a smile.
“Don't you know it?” Amos Kidder shot this at Mr. Robison suspiciously.
“Don't make me laugh, Kidder! Nobody knows the whole truth about anything. Take dinner with me to-morrow night—will you?”
“Yes.” There was a smoldering defiance—it wasn't suspicion exactly—in the newspaper man's voice and eyes.
“Good for you! Mr. Richards, please sell my Steel.”
“Now that Garrettson is—”
“Yes, now—at the market, carefully. Have I doubled my money in a week?”