“If this were a fact of our work it could wait, sir; but it ain't.” Corrigan was warming up. “It concerns you, personally, Mr. Bigelow. We have accepted your guidance so far because we believed you to be a certain kind of a man, and to stand for certain principles in business. We want to go on believing this, and we don't want to wait a minute, now that we're all together here. I've been told that you're the real operator of the big corner on the Board, that your money is in it, and that the man named Le Duc has been put up so that your name wouldn't be known. Is that so?” Every face in the room changed expression. The blood rushed into Bigelow's. “If you've been taking our time to make wild charges against my character------” “You aren't answering,” shouted Corrigan. “Tell me that. That's what I ask.” “You'd better cool down a bit, Harry.” “No, Mr. Anderson, I won't cool down.” “See here,” said Bigelow, his voice rising with the others. “This has nothing whatever to do with this meeting.” Corrigan leaned over the table and looked him keenly in the eyes. “If you mean to withdraw here and now, Mr. Bigelow, to dissolve this agreement, then I'm with you; it has nothing to do with it. But if you mean to go on as our managing director, then you've got to answer that question.” The other men looked at one another. “I guess that's fair, Mr. Bigelow,” observed the man in boots. “So long as Harry's sprung this on us we wouldn't any of us feel quite easy about it.” “Well, sir, is it true?” asked Corrigan. “I claim that this is impertinent.” “Is it true?” “I decline to answer. My private investments are simply none of your business.” Corrigan sank back in his chair and drew a long breath. “There,” he said, “that's all I wanted to know. I think you'll agree with me, gentlemen, that we can't keep up these relations any longer. Suppose we hear the report now.” It was half-past two when the door was opened and a score of heated, hungry men came out for lunch. Bigelow had recovered and made a strong fight, but the sentiment was overwhelmingly against him. The managership had been offered to Corrigan; he had declined and stood out for dissolution on the ground that during the dozen or fifteen years that remained before the timber should be all cut out there was room for them all without any damaging competition. And so before they broke up the lumber agreement was abrogated. And in a few days, as soon as matters could be settled, the lumber world would know it. Eastward sped Halloran, on to the Hudson, on up the crooked mountain railroad to the junction village, on up the wagon road behind a team of crawling white horses; reaching at last the house perched on the mountainside, lost in billows of autumn flame. Yes, Miss Davies was still there. The wife of the proprietor had seen her shortly before, walking up the trail behind the house.