His smile infuriated Wray, who replied quickly.
"By virtue of my control of all companies," he said crisply.
"Your control?" said Bent; "you have no control. I know your resources to a dollar, Mr. Wray. To-day at twelve o'clock your Denver and Saguache Railroad Company stock will be in my possession."
Wray exchanged a glance with Berkely and laughed dryly.
"Oh, you're really coming in with us at last, are you, General?" he said. "That's fine!" And then with a chuckle, "Your name on the directorate of the Denver and Saguache ought to have some weight with the new officers of the Denver and California."
The frown on Bent's brows deepened. The point of this joke did not dawn on him.
"That stock has always been for sale," Wray went on. "Everything I have is for sale when the man comes along who can afford to buy it. It's funny, though, General Bent, that you haven't said anything to me about it."
A slight twitching of Bent's lips and the nervous movement of his fingers among the papers on the table. Was this really a joke or only the last manifestation of Wray's colossal impudence? He chose to think it the latter.
"It hasn't been necessary to say anything to you about it, sir," he said sternly. "To-day at noon two million and a half of that stock is thrown on the market at a bargain—at a very great bargain. But I'm the only man in the United States who would dare to touch it. I'm the only man in the world, except yourself, to whom it's worth a dollar. I know your resources down to the last dime. You haven't the money to take it up. I have. At noon that stock will be mine, so will you be mine—your two railroads and your smelter, at the price I choose to pay for them."
Jeff sat quietly, one of his hands toying with the top of an inkstand, which he was regarding with friendly interest.