"Climb to where?"
Olive looked around at the vast throne-room of the shipowner, and her meaning was conveyed in the glance.
"Larssen has that final ten per cent.," admitted Matheson. "But do you know what it means in plain language?"
"What?"
"Utter unscrupulousness. Utter ruthlessness. Napoleon had that extra ten per cent. Bismarck had it. You're right when you say I haven't it."
Olive moved irritably in her chair. "Sour grapes," she commented.
"Call it that if you wish."
She dug her pen viciously into the polished surface of the desk, leaving the holder quivering at the outrage.
"Larssen has been merely playing with you," continued Matheson. "I don't want to blame, but to warn. I know the man far better than you do. He thinks you might be useful to him."
"What are you going to do when the month is up?" she asked abruptly.