"What?" demanded Anthony, and the out-thrust chin seemed to point at the man leaning toward him.
Dr. King settled back into his chair; the aggressive chin, the stubborn frown knotted between Anthony's eyes seemed to bring him to a sudden decision.
"If you are shrewd," said the doctor, "you may be able to prevent great losses upon land and sea. If you have courage you may stop death itself as it enters your uncle's house."
"What losses threaten his goods?" asked Anthony. "What hand is lifted against his life?"
"I know there have been losses," said Dr. King, "and instinct tells me there is danger. But I know nothing definite; I could not point to anything; I could not make an accusation that would stand reasoning over. And yet I am confident as I am that I'm speaking to you that you are needed at Rufus Stevens' Sons. Take the place that's yours in the counting-room; keep your eyes open; tell no one why you are there—no one, mind you; and, who knows? you may come to the bottom of a detestable state of affairs."
"Then there is no immediate danger?"
"No."
Anthony pondered, pressing the black ash into the pipe bowl with his forefinger.
"I will stay," said he, at last.