“Let me see it.”
Boland took the paper which Grogan was fingering nervously.
“Take it,” said the Irishman. “It’s a live coal.”
The other glanced over the sheet and threw it on the desk.
“Get busy on that lease, Miss Masters,” he commanded.
“Just a moment, Governor,” interrupted Harry, who had overheard the conversation as he came in. “If you lease that property to that hound, Anson, you and I are through.”
“What?” exclaimed John Boland, astounded.
“It has come to a show-down,” went on Harry, with determination expressed in both his tone and manner, “and I’m damned if I’ll touch a cent of dirty money like that.”
“You’ve been reading the Mary Randall stuff, eh?” sneered his father.
“Yes. And she’s right. Now, you make your choice.”