The Factor walked directly to the head of the table and his customary arm-chair, in which he disposed himself.
"Sit down," he commanded the younger man, indicating a chair at his elbow.
The latter warily obeyed.
Galen Albret hesitated appreciably. Then, as one would make a plunge into cold water, quickly, in one motion, he laid on the table something over which he held his hand.
"You are wondering why I am interviewing you again," said he. "It is because I have become aware of certain things. When you left me a few hours ago you dropped this." He moved his hand to one side. The silver match-safe lay on the table.
"Yes, it is mine," agreed Ned Trent.
"On one side is carved a name."
"Whose?"
The Free Trader hesitated. "My father's," he said, at last.