“Was it because you have principles against it? Not at all. Don't get mad. I don't doubt a minute that you have some principles that you learned in Sunday-school; but Lord, when a man's grown up and has his living to fight for, do you think the Sunday-school has any chance. So, you see, I thought it over, and reasoned it out about like this: You and the other man were both ambitious, but where he wanted money, you want position. It's to your interest to keep the confidence of your superiors. That's why I couldn't buy you; it's all right, you've done a good job, but don't try to persuade yourself that your integrity is armor plate, that you've been doing right for the good of the Sunday-school or from patriotic motives. Just because you happen to be on the winning side, because your gang happens to be on top, don't make the mistake of thinking you're better than the rest of us. For you aren't.”
Dick saw that Beveridge's tongue was trembling with a keen retort, and he broke in, “But you haven't told how I was worked into this, Henry.”
“Oh, that's simple. I wanted to boost you along in the world, but you were young and had notions. So I thought if I could once make you bring down a load of the stuff without knowing it, you would find yourself in for it, and then I could make you see things in the right proportions. I wanted you, bad. With one such man as you, I could have fooled them forever.” He paused and added meditatively: “And I would have made you a rich man, Dick. But just when I had it arranged, you came and told me that you had gone daffy over Cap'n Fargo's little girl, and I saw I had as good as lost you. Yes, sir, I could have made your fortune. Well, anyhow, you 'll get something out of it, after—”
Beveridge rose to go to his room, gathering up the papers. “I'm going to write this out now, boys. I 'll see you later.”
Late in the evening the statement was ready. Henry read it through, suggested a few emendations, and signed it. Then the three went on deck.
Far down on the southwestern horizon was a row of twinkling lights. Above them, in the sky, was spread a warm glow.
“We're getting along,” said Henry. “There's Chicago.”
“Oh, is it?” exclaimed Beveridge with interest.
“Yes. We 'll soon be in. Isn't it about time to put the handcuffs on me?”
Beveridge smiled. “That will hardly be necessary.”