Mayo was not in a mood to reason with his passion. He had just been battering his pride and persistence up against men whose manner of refusal showed that they remembered what Fletcher Fogg had said regarding the prospects of successful floating of the _Conomo_. There stood the ponderous pirate, blocking Mayo's way on the sidewalk, just as he had blocked the young man's prospects in life in the _Montana_ affair--just as he had closed avenues of credit. Mayo bumped against him and crowded him back across the sidewalk to the hotel's granite wall. He put his two raw, swollen hands on Fogg's immaculate waistcoat and shoved salt-stained, work-worn, and bearded face close. Even then the promoter did not seem to recognize Mayo. He blinked apprehensively. He looked about as if he intended to summon help. “You don't seem to have your iron wishbone in your pocket this time,” growled the assailant. He jabbed his thumbs cruelly into Fogg's ribs. “Gad! You're--you're Captain Mayo! I'll be cursed if I knew you till you spoke!” “I managed to hold myself in the last time you saw me, Fogg. I was waiting. Now, damn you, I've got you!” He was making reference merely to the physical grip in which he held the man. But Fogg seemed to find deeper significance in the words. “I know it, Mayo,” he whined. “That's why I'm down here. I have been wondering about the best way to get to you--to meet you right!” “You got to me all right, you infernal renegade!” “But, see here, Mayo, we can't talk this matter here on the street.” “There isn't going to be any talking!” The meeting-up had been so unexpected and Mayo's ire was so hasty that the young man had not taken thought of what he intended to do. His impulse was to beat that fat face into pulp. He had long before given up all hope that any appeal to Fogg as a man would help. He expected no consideration, no restitution. “But there must be some talk. I'm here to make it. You have me foul! I admit it. But listen to reason,” he pleaded. “It isn't going to do you any good to rave.” “I'm going to mash your face for you! I'll take the consequences.” “But after you do that, you still have got to talk turkey with me about those papers.” In spite of his fury, Mayo realized from Fogg's demeanor and his words that mere fear of a whipping was not producing this humility; there was a policeman on the corner. “Don't talk so loud,” urged Fogg. “Come up to my room where we can be private.” Mayo hesitated, puzzled by his enemy's attitude. “It's a word from the Old Man himself. He ordered me down here. It's from Marston!” whispered the promoter. “I'm in a devil of a hole all around, Mayo.” “Very well! I'll come. I can beat you up in your room more comfortably!”