Gray stepped into Gus Briskow's office and asked him to call the former vice-president, first, however, explaining exactly what he wished Gus to say. The ruse succeeded; then Gray returned to his own office. He drew a deep breath. Within him he felt a ferocious eagerness take fire, for it seemed to him that the day of reckoning had come. Henry's behavior was now easily understandable; the fellow was cringing, cowering in anticipation of a second blow. Well, the whip was in Gray's hands, and he proposed to use it ruthlessly--to sink the lash, to cut to the bone, to leave scars such as Henry had left upon him. Nor was that his only weapon. There was, for instance, Old Bell Nelson's honor. If coercion failed, there were rewards, inducements. Oh, Henry would have to speak! The Nelson fortune, or what remained for salvage from the wreck thereof, the bank itself, they were pawns which Gray could, and would, sacrifice, if necessary. His hunger for a sight of "Bob" had become unbearable. Freedom to declare his overwhelming love--and that love he knew was no immature infatuation, but the deep-set passion of a full-grown man--was worth any price he might be called upon to pay. Yes, Henry would speak the truth to-day or--for one of them, at least, there would be an end to the feud. Gray, too, kept a revolver in his desk. He removed it and placed it in his pocket. Buddy Briskow chose this, of all moments, to thrust his grinning visage into the door and to inquire, "Got time for me now, Mr. Gray?" "Not now, Buddy." "When?" "Why--almost any other time." "I wouldn't bother you, but it's important and I--I promised a certain party--" The youth's face reddened, his smile widened vacuously. "Later, if you don't mind." It was plain that Buddy did mind; nevertheless, he withdrew. When Swope and Lowe arrived, Gray could with difficulty restrain himself from blurting out the reason for his urgent summons, but he contented himself by asking them to wait in the president's office. Henry Nelson entered the bank with his head up, with a contemptuous smile upon his lips and an easy confidence in his bearing. His hand was outstretched toward the knob of Briskow's door, when the one adjoining opened and, from the office he himself had so long occupied, Calvin Gray spoke to him. "Please step in here, Colonel." Nelson recoiled. "No, thank you!" he said, curtly. "Briskow and I are amateur bankers; there is a matter upon which we need your advice." "Indeed? Finding it isn't as easy to run a bank as a drilling rig? He said you were out, otherwise--" "Will you come in?" Stiffly, reluctantly, as if impelled by some force outside of himself, Nelson stepped within, but he ignored the chair that was proffered him. Gray closed the door before saying: "The deception was mine, not Briskow's. You prefer to stand? Um-m--I appreciate your feeling of formality. I felt a bit ill at ease on the occasion of my first call here, when our positions were reversed--"