"What’s that?" he cried with a straining throat. "What’s that? You—— Give them here this minute; they’re mine! They’re mine. They’re mine! You know damned well they’re mine!" He had not counted on this. The unexpected disappointment tossed him from the summit of the hopes to which, that afternoon, he had been so unexpectedly lifted. He made a blind dash at Huber. Luke’s two hands caught both of Leighton’s wrists. By the exertion of a superior strength that scarcely showed itself, the assistant forced down the master’s arms and held them at his flanks. "They are my letters," said Luke. "Let go!" Leighton wrenched at the imprisoning grip; but he wrenched without effect. "Let me go!" "Certainly," said Luke. He freed the panting man. "I merely wanted to protect myself and show you it wouldn’t help you to use force." Leighton, his face still contorted, tried another tone. "It isn’t fair of you, Huber. I’m sorry I went at you that way; but you know well enough those letters belong to me." "They belong," said Luke, "to the man that can make the better use of them." "What use can _you_ make?" "A better one than you say you will." "They were brought here for me." "By a thief." "Well, you’re not going to restore them to their owner, are you?" "Perhaps." "What?" Leighton laughed cynically. "So _that’s_ what your moral tone’s for, is it?" "Perhaps." "Oh, come on, Huber, I didn’t mean that. Anyhow, you know, I only asked you to lend me the money." "The letters," said Luke again, "belong to the man that can make the better use of them." "I’ll do the right thing by you, Huber, if you give them back to me." "Thank you. The real owner of the letters can do more—when I’m for sale." Leighton bent forward and began to whisper. "I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you politically," he began. "I’ll——" "No thank you," said Luke. "Well, then,"—Leighton, his face now white from fear of loss, appeared to capitulate-"give them back and I’ll use them the way you want them used." The two men’s eyes probed one another. "I don’t believe you," said Luke. It was final, and it drove Leighton back to his purple rage. "I’ll ruin you!" he threatened. "And they’ll ruin you. Go ahead and resign. Resign? You can’t. You’re fired! Do you hear that? You’re fired! Now go and try to do something. You can’t do a thing but sell those letters to the people they were stolen from. If you try that, I’ll show you up, and if you try anything else with those people, they’ll bury you so deep nobody ever can dig down far enough to find you. Do you know who you’re up against when you buck that crowd? They won’t let you walk the same earth with them! Go on. You’ll be killed, and I’ll be damned glad of it. Fight them, will you? You might as well draw a gun on God Almighty! Now, then, get out of here. Get out, or I’ll have you kicked out!" *CHAPTER VI*