"We'll talk of that later," cried Hendrie, the blood still beating madly at his temples, but his words almost calm. "Meanwhile it's about my wife you're here. Mrs. Hendrie is sick to death upstairs for want of a surgeon's aid. The man who can save her is in Winnipeg. Your strike on the railroad keeps him from getting here in time to save her. Do you understand? You're here to save her by giving an order to your union members, and those in authority over them, to permit a special train to bring him here. That's what you're here for, and—by God, you're going to give it."
The veins were standing out like ropes on his forehead as he uttered his final threat. Leyburn understood. But he could not resist an impulse to challenge him further.
"And if I refuse?" he demanded, with brows raised superciliously.
"But you won't," retorted Hendrie. "Oh, no, you won't, my friend." Then in a moment his eyes blazed up with that curious insane light Angus knew so well. A deep flush overspread his great face. "I told you my back was to the wall," he cried. "I told you that. And you—you poor, miserable fool, believed it was because of your pitiful attempt to break me. I could laugh to think that you—you—Tug—the man I robbed on the Yukon trail, could ever hope to beat me when it came to measuring our strength. Never in your life. But, all unconsciously, you have hurt me; yes, you have hurt me—and you're going to undo that hurt." Slowly he withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket, and continued, pointing his words with the shining revolver his hand was gripping.
"You're going to write that order out now—here, in this room. You're going to write it so there can be no mistake. One of your men—one of your lieutenants—the man you call Frank Smith is going to take it and see that it is obeyed. He will also accompany the train. You'll write it now—this moment, do you understand? Now—here—or I'll shoot you down for the miserable cur you are."
Angus was sitting bolt up in his chair. His hard eyes were alight. He knew the mood of his employer, and even he dreaded what might follow.
But Leyburn, too, had realized something of the insane passion driving this man. Nor had he any desire to test it too far. However, he still demurred. He knew that for the second time in his life this great Leo had the best of him, and he must submit. But his submission should be full of fight.
"This man. This Frank Smith," he said, looking squarely into the millionaire's eyes. "Does he know what relation he is to you?"
"No. Do you?" Hendrie's reply bit through the silence.
Leyburn nodded. He was grinning savagely.