The ghost of a smile flitted around the shining little black eyes.
"Afraid?" he asked contemptuously. "I'm not even interested in him. The old fossil's a joke. He thinks he can stop the progress of the world to attend a case of measles in Mott Street."
The financier leisurely lifted his right hand, removed the cigar from his mouth, and struck the ashes lightly with his finger. Stuart noticed how small his hand, how delicately shaped, how smooth and careful its movements. Beyond a doubt it was the hand of an expert thief. And yet this man, by an accident of birth, was a devout member of the church and complied with the written laws of modern society.
Stuart was silent a moment, watching the dark masked face before him. At last he blurted out:
"Well, Cal, what's the real reason you make me this offer to-day?"
Bivens moved uneasily in his chair, fidgeted, hesitated and finally leaned close, speaking in a whisper:
"You can keep a little secret?"
"You ought to know that before making me such an offer."
"Yes. Yes, of course I know you will." Bivens paused and resumed his cigar. "The fact, is—Jim—I'm in love——"
Stuart cleared his throat to strangle an exclamation.