"And attack the lease?" The old eyes glared.
"Yes, sir," responded Henry.
"With all that that implies?" Boland asked, and his tone was the calculated menace of a man of ruthless will and tremendous power.
Now Henry Harrington was young—not seasoned yet for such a stroke. A kind of awe—in spite of himself, a kind of fear—crept into him. Still he would not be cowed—not by a mere tone at any rate.
"Yes; yes, sir. I suppose so, sir," he responded, his gaze straight into the face that awed him.
For a moment Old Two Blades was motionless and glaring. There ensued a stunned, nerve-pricking silence. Then came the acceptance of the inevitable; the admission that the combat was joined—mild words enough but of momentous meaning, with quick acidulated utterance. "Very well! . . . Very—well!" The autocratic voice was so crisp it fairly crackled. "Scanlon will arrange to take over whatever legal business you have on hand, and to receive your resignation as special counsel."
These were brief words but they contained a good deal for the senses to drink in all at once. Henry could not quite believe his ears. His mouth fell open in spite of him. There it was! As simply as that. He was to be put out—actually out! The world grew black about him and began to whirl. His career, his prospects—his . . . everything. What Billie, what Clayton, what Madden had so clearly intimated had befallen him. And yet the thing was so unreasonable—so silly—so . . . "Mr. Boland," he said, "I—I didn't suppose that this honest difference over what seems to both of us a vital matter would necessarily"
