"Yes; Halsey is a notary public."
"Good. Sit down at that desk and draw up a writing transferring my interest in the Midas to Stephen Elliott and Richard Bartrow, trustees."
"What's that? Trustees for whom?"
"For James Garvin."
The master of men leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing and the little frown of perplexity radiating fan-like above them.
"Jeffard, do you mean to say that you are going to step aside in favor of the man who tried to kill you?"
"You may put it that way, if you choose. It would have been done long ago if I had been able to find the man."
"And you stepped into the breach a year ago and secured his property for him because he had put himself out of the running and couldn't? You've touched me on the raw, Jeffard. It's my business to size people up, and you have fairly outflanked me. A blind man might have seen the drift of it, but I didn't; I thought you had robbed him. Why didn't you give it a name?"
"I had no thought of concealment until you warned me. Garvin was a criminal in the eye of the law, and the least I could do for him was to turn the tide of public opinion in his favor."