The General still stood by the window, his chin deep in his chest, his long fingers twitching behind his back.
"Jeff Wray must pay for that, Curtis. If we can't beat him in one way we must choose another. Jeff Wray stole the 'Lone Tree.' He trespassed on our property in the dead of the night, did violence to one of our employes, and bluffed Cort into signing that lease. If there was any law in the state of Colorado, he'd be serving his term at Cañon City. But I'll get him yet! I will, by God! If he'd come in this office now and hold you up for the money in your safe he'd be a thief. What is the difference?"
"Just this: He was successful, and he left no loose ends behind him."
"I've thought at times, Janney, that you lack some interest in this fight."
"Why? Because I take the precaution to get all the information I can—and because my information turns out to be unfavorable to our plans? You want to crush Wray. Very well. I have no objections. Crush him if you can. But it would hardly do to let him crush us."
Bent turned and examined his host curiously. Then he laughed. It wasn't pretty laughter, and it cracked dryly, like the sound of a creaking door.
"Upon my word, Curtis, you amaze me," he said.
"Very well," put in Janney coolly. "But think it over. Don't be hasty. If he puts that road through and starts the game of underbidding on the raw product, we'll be in for a long fight—and an expensive one. I don't think the Company wants that now. McIntyre doesn't, I know. And Warrington, as usual, is for temporizing."
"Temporizing?" Cornelius Bent's jaws snapped viciously. "This is not a case where personal preferences can be considered. There's a great principle involved. Are we going to let an upstart like Jeff Wray—a petty real estate operator from an obscure Western town—come into our field with a few stolen millions and destroy the plans of an organized business which controls the output of practically all the great gold-producing states—a company whose sound methods have brought order out of chaos, have given employment to an army of people; whose patents have simplified processes, reduced the cost of production, and kept the price of the metal where it is satisfactory both to the mines and the market? Are we going to see all this jeopardized by a wild-catter, a tin-horn gambler, a fellow with neither decency nor moral principle? Temporize like Warrington if you like, but the Board of the Amalgamated must make a fight for the Wray smelter—or accept my resignation."
Bent stalked the floor swiftly, biting off the ends of his sentences as though they were parts of Wray's anatomy, clenching his fingers as he might have done had they encircled Wray's neck. Curtis Janney followed him with his gaze, his brows tangled and his lips compressed, aware of the seriousness of the situation. The resignation of Cornelius Bent from the Board of the Amalgamated was a contingency not for a moment to be considered.