"The American Chemical Company is your original pet, and you put me up against it?"
Stuart paused and looked at Bivens with a scowl.
"Look here, Cal," he went on angrily, "you didn't think that you could use our friendship to weaken this suit at a critical moment, did you?"
"Jim," the little man cried, in distress, "you can't believe that I thought you were that sort of a dog, after all that has passed between us?"
"It does seem incredible," Stuart agreed.
"No, my boy," Bivens went on, after a pause, "I don't have to do dirty little things like that. These big issues have been raised. They are bound to come to trial before the Supreme Court of the United States—our one great tribunal beyond reproach or suspicion. They will be decided on their merits. The issues involved are too big and far-reaching for pettifogging methods. I suggested your name to help you in your career. I couldn't do it any other way. The stock I now own in the American Chemical Company is a mere trifle. I'll have a good joke on our crowd if you do win. I'll celebrate with a state dinner and make them all drink to your health. They'll pull ugly faces but they'll do it and fall over one another to do you honour besides."
Stuart broke into a hearty laugh.
"What a funny mixture of the devil and the human you are, after all, Cal! The more I see of you, the less I know you. How any man can make a colossal fortune as you have, and yet do such things as you've done for me, is incredible. In business you are an oppressor of the weak, cruel and unjust, and yet you are a good husband, a loyal friend, and a member of the church. It beats the devil!"
Bivens smiled cynically.
"Nothing mysterious about it. I came into a world where I found robbery and murder the foundation of our commercial system. I grappled with my enemies, learned the rules of the game and beat them at their own sport. I'm simply the product of the age—no better, no worse than the principles of modern society by which I live."