"Oh, you needn’t feel ashamed of that, my boy," said Kendrick kindly. "Your time wasn’t wasted. It’s worth while to know that those notes are in the hands of an enemy. But that’s a mere detail. Now if he had told you how he expects to keep me from meeting them when due--" Wharton Kendrick left his sentence suspended in the air, while he chewed his cigar for a minute or two. "After all, Hampden," he continued, "I suspect he has pushed those notes forward to draw away attention from his real point of attack. He’s figured on the possibility that you would bring me every word, and has found something to gain out of it, whether your final decision is to stand by me or to take up his offer. Now, about that offer? Are you prepared to accept his twenty-nine thousand for that trifling service he wants?" "If I get it, I’ll go halves with you when you’re broke," I replied with an attempt at lightness that was far from a success. "But to tell you the truth, I don’t like to discuss the thing, even in joke. It makes my gorge rise to hear a hint that I could take money for betraying you." "That’s Dick Hampden’s son," he returned, his face softening into a smile. "I could hear your father speaking then. But if you think I am worrying about your loyalty, just set your mind at rest." I thanked him for his certificate of confidence, and he continued: "You don’t have to tell me that Bolton isn’t the most agreeable company, but I’ll be much obliged if you’ll cultivate his acquaintance a little further." "Do you mean that you want me to pretend to accept his offer? I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t take his money." "Do you think you would get it?" "He offered a thousand dollars a week. I’d get that as long as the job lasted." "Well, fix it up to suit yourself. But if you can find some way to keep him talking, you may get the one word that will join the different ends of his scheme together. Here we have his dealings with Big Sam and the Council of Nine, and his battery of notes ready to fire at me. A little more, and we may see his whole plan. Once I get that, I’ll fix a scheme to scoop his pile out from under him so quick that he’ll think an earthquake has struck him." And with this hint he excused me for the night. As I went out into the big hall, I looked regretfully at the library door, with a mental vision of the pleasure of spending an evening in converse with Miss Kendrick setting my pulses to beating. But with Spartan resolve, I crushed down my emotions with the notion that it was my duty to attend the Nob Hill meeting of the agitators.