"Frank doesn't think so."
The millionaire shook his head deliberately.
"Say," he cried confidently, "your Frank will fight when the time comes. And—he'll fight—big."
"What makes you say—that?"
The girl's question came sharply, and, in a moment, a great light leaped into Alexander Hendrie's eyes.
"What makes me say—that?" he cried. Then he shrugged, and moved to pass her on the stairs on the way to his wife's room. "I know," he said, confidently. "That's all."
CHAPTER IX
CAPITAL AND LABOR
It was a large hall on the outskirts of Calford, in one of the poorer neighborhoods. It was packed almost to suffocation by an audience of stern-faced, eager humanity. There were the ample figures of uniformed train conductors; there were the thin, hard-muscled freighters. There were men from the locomotive departments, with traces of coal-dust about their eyes, of which, even in their leisure, they never seem quite able to rid themselves.