The young man got up at once and left the room, followed by the typist. Deane waited until the door was closed. Then he turned once more to his visitor. "Listen, Rowan," he said. "Do I understand you rightly? Do you mean that you would be willing to undertake a commission which you would certainly find unpleasant, and perhaps dangerous?" "I do mean that," Rowan declared, beating the palm of one hand with his clenched fist. "I am a desperate man. I have no time for long service, for industry, for perseverance, for any form of success which is to be won by orthodox means. I am like a man who has mortgaged every farthing he has in the world to take a thirty-five to one chance on a number. Don't you understand? I want money, and I can't wait. I haven't time. Give me a chance of something big. Remember what I have told you. Twelve months of suffering life is worth little enough in the balance." "You misunderstand me a little," Deane said slowly. "What I am going to suggest to you may seem difficult enough, and, under the circumstances, unpleasant, but there is no actual risk--at least," he corrected himself, "there should be none." Rowan laughed scornfully. "For Heaven's sake, don't pick your words so carefully," he begged. "If the thing is big enough, I am not afraid. If it is dishonest, say so. I am not a pickpocket, but I am past scruples." Once more Deane was silent for several moments. It was a chance, this,--just a chance. He looked out of the window, and he seemed to see in swift panorama all the splendid details of his rise to power. He saw himself as the central figure of that panorama--respected, honored, envied, wherever he went, east or west. It was a life, his, for a man to be proud of. There was no one who had a word to say against him,--no one who did not envy him his rapid climb up the great ladder. He carried power in both hands, so that when he moved even amongst the great people of the world a place was found for him. He realized in that one moment what it might mean to lose these things, and he drew a little breath. He must fight to the end, make use of any means that came to his hand. It was a chance this, only a chance, but he would take it! "Listen, Rowan," he said, turning once more to the man who had been watching him so eagerly, "I am taking you at your word. I am believing that you mean exactly what you say." "God knows I do!" Rowan muttered. "Very well, then," Deane continued, "I want you to understand this. The company of which I am managing director owns, as you may have heard, the greatest gold-fields in the world. Our chief possession, though, is the Little Anna Gold-Mine, which was once, as you may have heard, my property, and for which the corporation paid me a very large sum of money. Did you ever hear anything of the history of the Little Anna Gold-Mine, Rowan?"