When he spoke again, it was in a voice palpably held in control.
"I guess you have got us," he said. "There seems to be nothing for me
to do but accept the money." He held out his hand as Cameron slowly
counted out the big bills. Then without recounting, Wentworth thrust
them into his pocket, and with quick, nervous strokes of his pen signed
the receipt which Cameron placed before him. Then in a voice trembling
with suppressed rage he faced McNabb. "Damn you!" he cried. "I
thought--Orcutt said you were beginning to slip!"
"Well, maybe he's right," admitted McNabb, and the engineer saw that
his lips twitched at the corners.
"Who was your representative?" he demanded abruptly. "And, how did it
come that he arrived just in the nick of time?"
"Why, his name is Sven Larsen. He's Murchison's clerk," answered the
Scot. "And he was here all the time."
"Sven Larsen!" yelled Wentworth. "That half-wit! Why, he hasn't got
sense enough to come in out of the rain!"
"Maybe ye're right," admitted McNabb, "but that isn't what I hired him
to do."
With an oath, Wentworth pushed past Cameron and started for the door to
find himself suddenly face to face with Sven Larsen. "Get out of my
way, damn you!" he cried. "Go up in the loft and wallow in your
stinking furs!"
"Furs!" repeated the clerk dully, but without giving an inch. "Oh,
yes, furs.
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