"Simply this, old man, that all these high-browed society people who turn up their noses behind my back and marvel at my low origin and speak in bated whispers about my questionable financial strokes--all have their little secrets. For my own comfort I've made a special study of great fortunes in America. The funny thing is that apparently every one of them was founded on some questionable trick of trade." "Not every one, surely." "In my study of the subject I ran across a brilliant young Socialist by the name of Gustavus who has devoted his life to the study of the origin of these fortunes. He has written a book about them. I have read it in manuscript. It will fill four volumes when completed. Honestly I've laughed over it until I cried. For instance, speaking of the devil, here comes Major Viking. His people are no longer in trade. Such vulgarity is beneath them. He comes here because I'm supposed to be worth a hundred million and belong to the inner circle of the elect. There are less than two dozen of us, you know." "Delighted to greet you, Major. My old friend and college mate, James Stuart." The proud head of the house of Viking grasped Stuart's hand and gave it a friendly shake. His manner was simple, unaffected, manly and the bronzed look of his face told its story of life in the open. "Not our distinguished young district attorney whom the politicians had to get rid of?" he asked in tones of surprise and pleasure. "The very same," Bivens answered gravely. The Major gripped Stuart's hand a second time. "Then I want to shake again and offer you my congratulations on the service you have rendered the Nation. It's an honour to know you, sir." Stuart was too much amazed at such a speech to reply before the tall figure had disappeared. Bivens pressed his arm. "That's why I could afford to pay you a million a year." "You don't mean to say that _his_ fortune is streaked with the stain of fraud?" Stuart asked, in low tones. "Certainly. Personally, he's a fine fellow. He's a big man and lives in a big world. His fortune is not less than two hundred million, securely salted down in gilt-edged real estate, most of it. But the original fortune was made by fraud and violence in the old days of colonial history. The elder Viking was a furrier. The fur trade was enormously profitable. Why? Because the whole scheme was built on the simple process by which an Indian was made drunk and in one brief hour cheated out of the results of a year's work. His agents never paid money for skins. They first used whiskey to blind their victims and then traded worthless beads and trinkets for priceless treasures of fur. And on such a foundation was the great house founded." "It's incredible."