"That the moment he is sober enough to know anything he will know that he is discharged!"
"But we can't get along without him. He is the one man—"
"We shall have to get along without him. I have told him that if he touched whisky again on this job he could go."
"But would it not be better to wait a few days—to give him a chance to sober up?"
"Conniston, I have never found it necessary to break my word. I am through with Truxton. And if my last hope of success goes with him he must go just the same. I am sorry for the man—the poor fellow can't help these periodic drunks of his. But I am through with him."
Conniston frowned into the eyes which were fixed intently upon him.
"You know best. I am ready to do what I can to help out. I think I can promise you to keep the work going until you can get a man to take his place."
Mr. Crawford bent a long, searching regard upon him. And when he spoke it was slowly, sternly.
"What am I paying you, Conniston?"
"Forty-five dollars a month."