The man’s hands swung out blindly. Then they fell to his sides. He was panting a little, as if he had come a long distance. But his eyes were fixed on John’s face with a little sneer. “Think you ’re clever, don’t you!” he said doggedly.
“I wish I were,” said John, “though it does n’t seem to have done you much good,” he added after a moment.
The man’s fingers were fumbling at the desk, striving to gather up and destroy the papers jotted with figures.
“Let those alone!” said John.
The fingers ceased their work, but they still moved restlessly, playing on the air. The sudden fright had done its work.... Quietly, bit by bit, John laid the plan before him.
“But I tell you I don’t dare do it,” said the man. His voice was a kind of shrill moan.
“Do you dare not to?” asked the young man.
There was silence in the room.
“All right.” It was crafty, with a sullen note just below the surface. “You give me the figures and I ’ll copy ’em and send ’em.”
“I will send them,” said John slowly, “and so long as you play fair, no one else knows it. But if you betray us by one breath—I give the matter over to President Tetlow—”