'Then they don't want the truth?'
'Good lord—no!'
Henry considered this, bent over as if to read further, twisted his flushed face as if in pain, then abruptly sprang up.
'What's become of it—the piece I wrote?'
'Well, Hen—I didn't feel that we had a right to destroy the thing. Too dam good! In a sense, it's the old man's property; in another sense, it's yours——'
'It's mine!'
'In a sense. At any rate, I took it on myself to have a copy made confidentially. Then I turned the original over to Mr Boice. He doesn't know.'
'Where's the copy?'
'Here in my desk.'
'Give it to me!'