“McNabb is only a poor devil of a mountaineer, too ignorant to be held fully accountable, don’t you think?” he ventured at the match-lighting. “That may be. But he knows the real criminal or criminals who employed him. I’ve been an easy mark all my life, Poictiers, but that is a thing of the past now. I’ve turned over a new leaf.” The golden youth was blowing delicate little smoke rings at the ceiling. “So you have, and the new leaf isn’t as pleasant reading as some of the old ones, Vance,” he commented, speaking slowly and without a trace of the lisp. “Some of the things you are writing down on it are rather sordid, don’t you think? You are a bigger man in some ways, and a much smaller one in some others.” “‘Faithful are the wounds of a friend,’” quoted the one under criticism with a short laugh. “Suppose you elucidate.” “I will. Up to the time of your father’s death you were as much of a _flâneur_ as I’ve always been. You didn’t have to ask for your blessings; you merely reached out and took them--if they didn’t happen to be handed you on a silver platter. During the past few months you’ve been chucked up against life as it really is for the greater part of mankind; a fight, a frantic scramble for a foothold. You’ve made the fight, because you have the good old Cornish fighting blood in you; but while you have been growing on one side you have been shrinking on the other.” “Go on.” “Real magnanimity was one of the strongest and most lovable qualities of the man you’ve put off; you’ve lost it completely. Cheerful optimism was one of the other good points, and you’ve dropped it. Just now you are planning first to get square with your enemies, and next to shirk your responsibilities by effacing yourself. What have you done about the new incorporation?” “I have done exactly what I told you I should. The new company is formed, and the papers for the division of the capital stock are prepared. I am looking for Peters, the family lawyer, on every train, and when he comes the deal will be closed.” “You tried to tell me the other day what the property arrangement is to be, but I didn’t get it very clearly fixed in my mind,” Carfax offered. “It is simple. Since you say you don’t want any of the stock, you will be reimbursed for your cash advances out of the first money earned by the mine. The stock is to be divided, sixty per cent to my mother and sister and forty to Judge Birrell for distribution among the original minority stockholders who were swindled out of their holdings by Parker.” “Parker,” said Carfax musingly. “He will never swindle any more. Did I tell you? I read an item in the New York _Times_. Parker was found dead at his desk in his Broad Street office one day last week.” Then he came back to the matter in hand. “Where do you come in, in the property distribution?”