"Then I told them how much," concluded John Rawn.
"How much was it, then?" Halsey tried to smile, palely.
"That is not for me to say. Business men handling large matters are pledged to mutual secrecy. The president of this railroad left for New York yesterday. I'm taking chances in telling you this much, and promising you as much as I have. I would not do it if I did not regard you as one of my own family. You must keep close in this, or else—" A savage look came into Rawn's face, which he himself would scarcely have recognized, a new trait in his nature, kept back all these years; the savagery of the stronger having a weaker being in its power.
"Breathe a word of this, even to Grace," he said, "and it'll cost you Grace, and it'll cost you more than that."
V
Halsey made no answer but to sit looking at him, his eyes slightly distended. He loved this girl. If he must pay for that love, very well. Love was worth all a man could have, all a man could do. He loved a girl, and he was young. Any price for her seemed small.
Rawn allowed his last remark to sink in before he resumed:
"It was some time ago that I went to these men. They sent for me often enough after that—"
"And could you prove it out?—"
"Wait a minute—don't interrupt me when I'm speaking." Rawn raised an imperious hand. "They sent for me, yes; until at length the president told me they hadn't known they had had this big and brainy a man right at their elbows all the time.