“I'll tell you,” said he; “because I know you well enough to realise that there is a point where your loyalty to Heinzman would step aside in favour of your loyalty to your family.”
“And you think you know where that point is?”
“It's the basis of my compromise.”
Orde began softly to laugh. “Newmark, you're as clever as the devil,” said he. “But aren't you afraid to lay out your cards this way?”
“Not with you,” replied Newmark, boldly; “with anybody else on earth, yes. With you, no.”
Orde continued to laugh, still in the low undertone.
“The worst of it is, I believe you're right,” said he at last. “You have the thing sized up; and there isn't a flaw in your reasoning. I always said that you were the brains of this concern. If it were not for one thing, I'd compromise sure; and that one thing was beyond your power to foresee.”
He paused. Newmark's eyes half-closed again, in a quick darting effort of his brain to run back over all the elements of the game he was playing. Orde waited in patience for him to speak.
“What is it?” asked Newmark at last. “Heinzman died of smallpox at four o'clock this afternoon,” said Orde.