He bent forward to look steadily into the unflinching eyes of Charles
Gould, who, remembering the large box full of his father's letters, put
the accumulated scorn and bitterness of many years into the tone of his
answer--

"As far as the knowledge of these men and their methods and their
politics is concerned, I can answer for myself. I have been fed on
that sort of knowledge since I was a boy. I am not likely to fall into
mistakes from excess of optimism."

"Not likely, eh? That's all right. Tact and a stiff upper lip is what
you'll want; and you could bluff a little on the strength of your
backing. Not too much, though. We will go with you as long as the thing
runs straight. But we won't be drawn into any large trouble. This is the
experiment which I am willing to make. There is some risk, and we will
take it; but if you can't keep up your end, we will stand our loss, of
course, and then--we'll let the thing go. This mine can wait; it has
been shut up before, as you know. You must understand that under no
circumstances will we consent to throw good money after bad."

Thus the great personage had spoken then, in his own private office, in
a great city where other men (very considerable in the eyes of a vain
populace) waited with alacrity upon a wave of his hand. And rather more
than a year later, during his unexpected appearance in Sulaco, he had
emphasized his uncompromising attitude with a freedom of sincerity
permitted to his wealth and influence. He did this with the less
reserve, perhaps, because the inspection of what had been done, and more
still the way in which successive steps had been taken, had impressed
him with the conviction that Charles Gould was perfectly capable of
keeping up his end.