“In one breath you threaten me because you say I'm interfering in your affairs. In the next breath you threaten me because I refuse to interfere. You are making dangerous talk, Davis. I may call the courts to pass on that threat. There is only one proposition I can make to you--and that's strictly in the line of my business. If you are tied up financially--are at the end of your resources and must have help--I'll give you my aid in getting the Consolidated to take over the Danburg plant at a fair valuation.” “Is that the best word you've got for us?” “I have made you an honorable business proposition.” “That your final talk?” “Absolutely.” Davis found words inadequate for his boiling emotions just then. He advanced on Dodd, who shrank back into his chair. Davis whipped the long roll of plans out from under his arm, held the roll by one end, and swung it like a bat-stick. But he did not strike at Dodd, as the magnate seemed to apprehend. He swung over the colonels' head and swept the top of the desk clean of everything; vases, bouquets, _objets d'art_, all went rolling and smashing to the floor. Colonel Dodd ducked low and held his square head in his hands as if he feared that the next assault would be on that. But Davis led his associates out of the room through the door which Briggs had flung open, summoned by the crash in his master's holy of holies. For the first time, perhaps, in the history of that private office the door leading into the anteroom was left open and unguarded. Briggs ran into the room, his coat-tails streaming, his inquisitive beak stretched forward. On his heels followed the tall young man who had been waiting in the anteroom. It was Walker Farr, who closed the door behind him, shutting out the curious anteroom clients who flocked and peered. When the colonel lifted his head he found himself looking squarely into the eyes of this tall young man whom he in no way remembered. Briggs went down on his hands and knees and began to pick up the debris. One of the bouquets had rolled to the colonel's feet, and he stooped with some difficulty, recovered it, and laid it across his knees. He gazed past Farr with a frown--with a significant, dismissing jerk of his head. The young man turned in time to see the capitalist's handsome secretary. The amazing riot in the sanctuary of her employer had brought her from behind the screen. Uncertainty and alarm were in her eyes and excitement had flushed her cheeks. Against the background of the gorgeous screen she seemed a veritable apparition of loveliness, and while Farr stared, frankly admiring her, recognizing her, exchanging that startled recognition with her, she disappeared. “How do you dare to come into my private office in this fashion?” “I have waited in that anteroom every day for ten days, trying to get an audience. The door was open just now and I came in.”