There were no greetings. This situation had no formalities. Warburton faced them and he seemed neither cold nor hot.
“Mr. Lee, as a director of the road I have to inform you that, following the reports of our engineer here, your present contracts are void and you will not get any more.”
A white radiance of rage swiftly transformed Allison Lee. His eyes seemed to blaze purple out of his white face.
And Neale knew him to be Allie’s father—saw the beauty and fire of her eyes in his.
“Warburton! You’ll reconsider. I have great influence—”
“To hell with your influence!” retorted Warburton, the lion in him rising. “The builders—the directors—the owners of the U. P. R. are right here in this car. Do you understand that? Do you demand that I call a spade a spade?”
“I have been appointed by Congress. I will—”
“Congress or no Congress, you will never rebuild a foot of this railroad,” thundered Warburton. He stood there glaring, final, assured. “For the sake of your—your government connections, let us say—let well enough alone.”
“This upstart boy of an engineer!” burst out Lee, in furious resentment. “Who is he? How dare he accuse or report against me?”
“Mr. Lee, your name has never been mentioned by him,” replied the director.