“I don’t know why you have told me—now—and do not want to hear,” he said. “Still, by the Lord who made us both, if you try to make use of this knowledge for any purpose, or let a whisper get about, I’ll crush you utterly.”
“Have I deserved these threats, sir?”
Torrance looked at him steadily. “Did you expect thanks? The man who grooms her horses would tell me nothing—he lied like a gentleman. But they are not threats. You found buying up mortgages—with our dollars—an easy game.”
“But—” said Clavering.
Torrance stopped him with a little scornful gesture. “I knew when I took this thing up I would have to let my scruples go, and now—while I wonder whether my hands will ever feel clean again—I’m going through. You are useful to the committee, and I’ll have to tolerate you.”
Clavering turned away, with pulses throbbing furiously and rage in his heart, though he had known what the cost would be when he staked everything he hoped for on Larry’s destruction; while his neighbours noticed a change in Torrance when he once more sat down at the head of the table. He seemed several years older, and his face was very grim.
“I believe I can promise you that Larry will make us no more trouble,” he said. “Mr. Clavering has a workable scheme, and it will only need the Sheriff and a few men whom I will choose when I am ready.”
Nobody seemed to consider it advisable to ask questions, and the men dispersed; but as they went down the stairway, Allonby turned to Torrance.
“This thing is getting too big for you and me,” he said. “You have not complained, but to-night one could fancy that it’s breaking you. Now, I’m not made like you, and when I think of what it has cost me I have got to talk.”
Torrance turned, and Allonby shivered as he met his eyes.