"You have arranged to go?" The older man's face expressed his astonishment. "For what purpose?"
"On a commission for the government."
"And you wish my permission for what?"
"To bring your son back with a warrant, under arrest."
The older man looked at Curlie for a moment as if to discover whether or not he was joking.
"Young man," he said slowly, "do you know who I am?"
"You are J. Anson Ardmore, one of the richest men of the Middle West."
"And do you know that I could crush you with my influence?"
"No, sir, I do not." Curlie drew himself up to his full height. "Those days are gone forever. I am part of the United States government, the government which has made it possible for you to gain your wealth. Her laws must be obeyed. You could not crush me and, what is still more important, you have no notion of doing so."
"What?" The magnate's face became a study, then it broke into a smile. "I like your spirit," he said seizing Curlie's hand in a viselike grip. "You have the power of the law behind you; you need no consent of mine. But so be it; if my son has broken the law, he shall suffer the penalty."