"I have been there three or four times," the doctor went on hurriedly, "and wrote to you twice. I felt sure that my letters had not reached you. I hoped for the chance of a moment to-night to lay my case before you." Bivens smiled and sat down. "All right, I'll give you five minutes." "I felt sure you had not seen my letters." "I'll ease your mind on that question. I did see them both. You got my answer?" "That's just it. I didn't. And I couldn't understand it." "Oh, I see!" Bivens's mouth quivered with the slightest sneer. "Perhaps it was lost in transit!" The sneer was lost on the doctor. He was too intent on his purpose. "I know. It was a mistake. I see it now, and I'm perfectly willing to pay for that mistake by accepting even half of your last proposition." Bivens laughed cynically. "This might be serious, Woodman, if it wasn't funny. But you had as well know, once and for all, that I owe you nothing. Your suit has been lost. Your appeal has been forfeited. My answer is brief but to the point--_not one cent_--my generosity is for my friends and followers, not my enemies." "But we are not enemies, personally," the doctor explained, good-naturedly. "I have put all bitterness out of my heart and come to-night to ask that bygones be bygones. You know the history of our relations and of my business. I need not repeat it. And you know that in God's great book of accounts you are my debtor." Bivens's eyes danced with anger, and his words had the ring of cold steel. "I owe you nothing." In every accent of the financier's voice the man before him felt the deadly merciless hatred whose fires had been smouldering for years. For a moment he was helpless under the spell of his fierce gaze. He began to feel dimly something of the little man's powerful personality, the power that had crushed his enemies. The doctor's voice was full of tenderness when he replied at last: "My boy," he began quietly--"for you are still a boy when you stand beside my gray hairs--men may fight one another for a great principle without being personal enemies. We are men still, with common hopes, fears, ills, griefs and joys. When I was a soldier I fought the Southern army, shot and shot to kill. I was fighting for a principle. When the firing ceased I helped the wounded men on the field as I came to them. Many a wounded man in blue I've seen drag himself over the rough ground to pass his canteen to the lips of a boy in gray who was lying on his back, crying for water. If I am your enemy, it is over a question of principle. The fight has ended, and I have fallen across your path to-night, dying of thirst while rivers of water flow about me." Bivens turned away and the doctor pressed closer. "Suppose we have fought each other in the heat of the day in the ranks of two hostile armies? The battle has ceased. For me the night has fallen, I----" His voice quivered and broke for an instant.