Gordon maintained a perfect equanimity, but he wanted to laugh badly. He felt he could afford to laugh.
"There's no need to 'wait around,'" he deferred blandly. "I am here to act for Mr. Mallinsbee—absolutely. The entire affairs of the township are in my hands, and I have his definite instructions how to proceed. If you have any proposition to make I am prepared to deal with it."
For all his apparent deference a note had crept into Gordon's tone which caught the suspicious ears of the railroad agent. He peered sharply into the blue eyes of the man across the desk.
"You have absolute power to deal in Mallinsbee's interest?" he questioned harshly.
"In Mr. Mallinsbee's interests," assented Gordon.
"Wal, what's his proposition?" The man's mustached upper lip was slightly lifted and he showed his teeth.
"Precisely what it was when he first explained it to you."
The deference had gone out of Gordon's voice. Then, after the briefest of smiling pauses, he added—
"That is in so far as the railroad is concerned. For your own personal consideration his offer of sites to you remains the same as regards price, but the selection of position will be made by—us."
Gordon was enjoying himself enormously. He had taken the law into his own hands, and intended to put things through in his own way. He expected an outburst, but none was forthcoming. David Slosson was beginning to understand. He was taking the measure of this man. He was taking other measures—the measure of the whole situation. Of a sudden he realized that he was being told, in his own pet phraseology, to—go to hell. He had consigned many people in that direction during his life, but somehow his own consignment was quite a different matter, especially through the present channel.