“We have no proof of that,” said Manson, judicially.
“I have proof. Blair didn’t hesitate to confess as much after he had raked in my money. Blair’s one of those oily hypocrites who smile and smile, and remain the villain. He never forgives, though he may appear to do so.”
“You were always inclined to be prejudiced against Mr. Blair, John,” said Manson meditatively. “Still, there’s little use in talking of what is past. I suppose you read Mr. Rockervelt’s statement in the papers?”
“Admirable piece of virtuous indignation, isn’t it? What a beautiful sermon against all speculation! And yet it is stated very freely that those on the inside have made millions by selling the road and buying it back again. I wonder what fool it was that said you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.”
“Well, let’s think no more about it. When are you going back West, John?”
“I leave to-morrow, at noon, but I don’t go West; I go East.”
“East?”
“Yes, I sail on the first out-going liner to-morrow, and hope to drop off in France.”
“Why, you’ve never given up your situation, have you?”
“Oh, yes, it was impossible for me to remain. I’m done with railroading.”