Rawn grew cold and hard. "There's one thing we can't do, Jennie," said he. "We can't side in with any of his socialistic talk. What _he_ wants to do is to give to the people of this country for nothing what this International Power Company is planning to _sell_ them for ever. What _we_ want is monopoly! I've been gambling everything I've got on the certainty of that monopoly. I'm in soak, in hock, up to my eyes on the market, this minute. I'm margined to the full extent of my credit. The biggest men of America are back of me. I'll be rich if this thing goes through--one of the richest men in America. But I'd almost rather lose it all than to see you side in with him, or listen for five minutes to his rotten talk about the 'rights of man.' There _are_ no rights of man except what each man can take for himself! As for him, I'd kill him, or get him killed, if I knew first how he got that current through the receivers. Give me that, and I'll let the rights of man wait a while. I'll show them a thing or two! "But of course," he added, frowning again in helpless perturbation, "we've got to get him in hand. Grace couldn't do it." "No; on the contrary. I can--if I pay!" "_Then pay!_" he snarled suddenly, his voice harsh, half choking. "What's the price--nothing worth mentioning. But it's got to be paid, no matter what it is. We're caught, and we're squeezed! We've got to pay, _no matter what it is_, Jennie!" "Is it no matter to you, Mr. Rawn?" "How can it be? I'm almost crazy to-night! Do it, that's all, and draw on me to the limit!" "To the limit, Mr. Rawn?" "_To the limit!_" He looked her straight in the eye, and she met his gaze fully. She shivered slightly again, but her delicately clean-cut face showed no further sign. Only she shivered, and pulled her wrap a trifle closer about her shoulders. "Very well," she said. "I may have to draw on you--and myself, too." "It's all in the game, Jennie--we've got to play it together--we're two of the same sort--we've got to climb, to succeed. We run well together. One must help the other's hand." "Yes, it's a game," she answered; and so rose, and left him without further word. VIII John Rawn followed her up the stair, mumbling some sort of conjugal affection, but she left him at the landing and passed toward her own apartments down the hall, giving him hardly even a look of farewell. He followed her with his eyes, standing a little time, his hand resting on the lintel of his own door.