"The part that the hand has to do," said he, and there was a sharp cut to his voice that Magruder had not heard before, "you may leave to me. So speak up, sir, for I'm not used to your way of doing business, and tell you plainly that I do not like it."
Again the dirty gray came into Magruder's face, and again he began to cringe.
"I can speak no plainer, because I have no plain knowledge," said he. "I can point to nothing; I can accuse no one. But," and here he crowded close to the young man, and whispered in his ear, "there is a force at work in Rufus Stevens' Sons that means ruin."
"Good God!" said Anthony, more exasperated than ever. "Am I to get nothing from you at all?" He pushed the trader away, and got upon his feet. "At least," said he, "you can tell me what the thing is you are afraid of."
But Magruder shook his head.
"I do not know even that," said he.
Anthony clapped his tall beaver upon his head and buttoned up his coat.
"Good morning," said he.
But Magruder put a hand upon his arm.
"Very like," said he, "you've seen a deal, both at sea and on land. Strange things come to those who sail the ships of the world and who travel in its wilderness places. But for all that, young man, you've never seen a stranger thing than you'll see here in this port—in the counting-room of your uncle—if you have the mind for it, and the patience to wait and watch."