Craig either felt or assumed contrite concern. "Excuse me, Latisan, but is it true that Mr. Flagg has suffered a stroke of paralysis?" "It is true, sir." "I'm sorry. I'm not on pleasant terms with him, or with you, for that matter. But I hate to see a good fighter struck down." Latisan went to the desk and wrote his name on a leaf of the dog-eared register. He proposed to stay the night at Brophy's and start north in the morning. "Go up and take Number Ten," said Brophy, who had been called as a helper and who had walked down from the mansion with Latisan. When Craig plodded heavily along the upper corridor, on his way to bed a little later, the door of Number Ten was open for ventilation; Latisan was smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper which he had picked up in the tavern office. His stare, directed at Craig over the top of the newspaper, was inhospitable when the Comas man stopped and leaned against the door jamb. "Latisan, I'm presuming on that frankness of yours; you have bragged about it in the past." "That was before my experience with you in the Walpole matter, sir. But go ahead! What do you want?" "You're over here in the Noda region, according to your threat. You may be willing to inform me as to your status in the Flagg proposition, now the old man is on his back." "Mr. Flagg has put me in full charge of his drive." "Has he delegated to you any authority to compromise?" "No, sir!" "There ought to be an opportunity to compromise, now that he's down and out." "I just left Mr. Flagg sitting in his chair, and he says he intends to keep sitting there. Therefore, he isn't down." "Is his mind clear for business?" "I should say so--yes!" Craig tipped his hat and scratched the side of his head. "Then I'm afraid there isn't much use in my going to him to talk compromise," he confessed. "That's your affair, Mr. Craig." "And your affair--where he's concerned----" "Is to bring down his drive." "He has threatened a big fight at Skulltree. You heard him." "Yes." "And if he gives his orders to blow hell out of the bottom of the river, I suppose you'll obey, eh?" "He has ordered me to bring his logs into the hold-boom here at Adonia. I have promised to do so. I see no need of going into details of how I'm to do it." Latisan raised the shield of his newspaper in front of his face. But Craig persisted. He had promised the Noda to his superiors; he had not been sure how he could maneuver to deliver, but his past success had impelled him to go on with his cocksure pledges of performance; he was spurred by a hint of a raise in salary, a gift of Comas common stock; he had depended on the situation at Skulltree as his principal weapon, if bravado backed the special legislative act. But that act had been juggled, just as Echford Flagg had asserted. The thing was ticklish, and Craig knew it. Anger and apprehensiveness were working twin leverage on the Comas executive.