"That is a question which you must settle with your own conscience," said Godlike slowly, as he fixed his gaze upon Martin Fulmer's face.
Was he aware of the one weak point in the strong, bold mind of Dr. Martin Fulmer? Did he know of Dr. Martin Fulmer's fear and horror of—the unpardonable sin?
Martin did not reply, but leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed buried in thought.
"In order to understand my position, reflect,—twenty-one years ago, the estate was but two millions; behold it now!" He unlocked the portfolio, and drew forth two half sheets of foolscap, covered with writing in a delicate but legible hand. "There is a brief statement of the estate as it stands."
Israel eagerly grasped one half sheet; Godlike took the other. Martin Fulmer intensely watched their faces as they read.
Rapidly Godlike's eagle eye, perused that index to the untold wealth of the Van Huyden estate.
"It would purchase the Presidency of the United States!" he muttered with a heaving chest,—"enthroned upon that pedestal, a man might call kings his menials, the world his plaything."
"One hundred millions! Astor multiplied by Girard!" ejaculated Israel Yorke,—"with such a capital, one might buy Rothschild, and keep him too!"
Glorious and eloquent half sheet of foolscap! Talk of Milton, Shakspeare, Homer,—your poetry is worth all theirs combined! What flight of theirs, in their loftiest moods, can match in sublimity, the simple and majestic march of this swelling line,—
"One hundred millions of dollars!"