THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
the face that, only a few hours ago, had smiled upon him, and upon the lips that had whispered to him, "I will remember, Ranald." Yet he was none the less resolved. With face set and bloodless, and eyes of gleaming fire, he faced the man that represented what was at once dearest in life and what was most loathsome in conduct.
"Give me a moment, Mr. St. Clair," he said, with a note of authority in his tone. "You have made me an offer of a position such as I could hardly hope to expect for years to come, but I value it chiefly because it means you have absolute confidence in me; you believe in my ability and in my integrity. I am determined that you will never have cause to change your opinion of me. You are about to complete a deal involving a very large sum of money. I have a report here," tapping his desk, "which you have not yet seen."
"It really doesn't matter!" interjected Mr. St. Clair; "you see, my dear fellow—"
"It matters to me. It is a report which not only you ought to have, but which, in justice, the buyer of the Bass River Limits ought to see. That report, Mr. St. Clair, ought to be given to Colonel Thorp."
"This is sheer folly," exclaimed Mr. St. Clair, impatiently.
"It is the only honorable course."
"Do you mean to insult me, sir?"
"There is only one other thing I would rather not do," said Ranald, in a grave voice, "and that is
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