Eaton nodded a promise, and, when he could find his voice, demanded: “Where are you taking me?” “You’ll see in a minute, sir. It’s all right.” The carriage turned into an alley and stopped. Eaton was led to a ladder that hung suspended from the fire-escape, and was bidden to mount. He did so, following his guide to the second story, and being in turn followed by the other man. He was taken along a corridor and into the first of a suite of rooms opening into it. He knew he was in the Mesa House, and suspected at once that he was in the apartments of Simon Harley. His suspicion ripened to conviction when his captors led him through two more rooms, into one fitted as an office. The billionaire sat at a desk, busy over some legal papers he was reading, but he rose at once and came forward with hand extended to meet Eaton. The young man took his hand mechanically. “Glad to have the pleasure of talking with, you, Mr. Eaton. You must accept my apologies for my methods of securing a meeting. They are rather primitive, but since you declined to call and see me, I can hold only you to blame.” An acid smile touched his lips for a moment, though his eyes were expressionless as a wall. “Mr. Eaton, I have brought you here in this way to have a confidential talk with you, in order that it might not in any way reflect upon you in case we do not come to an arrangement satisfactory to both of us. Your friends cannot justly blame you for this conference, since you could not avoid it. Mr. Eaton, take a chair.” The wills of the two men flashed into each other’s eyes like rapiers. The weaker man knew what was before him and braced himself to meet it. He would not sit down. He would not discuss anything. So he told himself once and again to hold himself steady against the impulse to give way to those imperious eyes behind which was the impassive, compelling will. “Sit down, Mr. Eaton.” “I’ll stand, Mr. Harley.” “SIT DOWN.” The cold jade eyes were not to be denied. Eaton’s gaze fell sullenly, and he slid into a chair. “I’ll discuss no business except in the presence of Mr. Ridgway,” he said doggedly, falling back to his second line of defenses. “To the contrary, my business is with you and not with Mr. Ridgway.” “I know of no business you can have with me.” “Wherefore I have brought you here to acquaint you with it.” The young man lifted his head reluctantly and waited. If he had been willing to confess it to himself, he feared greatly this ruthless spoiler who had built up the greatest fortune in the world from thousands of wrecked lives. He felt himself choking, just as if those skeleton fingers had been at his throat, but he promised himself never to yield.