“And I have youth and mining experience and the inside track, as well as stancher friends than he ever dreamed of,” laughed Ridgway, clapping the other on the back. “Well, good night, Steve. Pleasant dreams, old man.”
The boyish secretary shook hands warmly. “You’re a MAN, chief. If anybody can pull us through it will be you.”
Triumphant confidence rang in the other’s answering laugh. “You bet I can, Steve.”
CHAPTER XIX.
ONE MILLION DOLLARS
Eaton, standing on the street curb at the corner of the Ridgway Building, lit a cigar while he hesitated between his rooms and the club. He decided for the latter, and was just turning up the hill, when a hand covered his mouth and an arm was flung around his neck in a stranglehold. He felt himself lifted like a child, and presently discovered that he was being whirled along the street in a closed carriage.
“You needn’t be alarmed, Mr. Eaton. We’re not going to injure you in the least,” a low voice explained in his ear. “If you’ll give me your word not to cry out, I’ll release your throat.”
Eaton nodded a promise, and, when he could find his voice, demanded: “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see in a minute, sir. It’s all right.”
The carriage turned into an alley and stopped. Eaton was led to a ladder that hung suspended from the fire-escape, and was bidden to mount. He did so, following his guide to the second story, and being in turn followed by the other man. He was taken along a corridor and into the first of a suite of rooms opening into it. He knew he was in the Mesa House, and suspected at once that he was in the apartments of Simon Harley.
His suspicion ripened to conviction when his captors led him through two more rooms, into one fitted as an office. The billionaire sat at a desk, busy over some legal papers he was reading, but he rose at once and came forward with hand extended to meet Eaton. The young man took his hand mechanically.