"You know what they did to John Bradley?"
"Yes; they killed him."
"And you know what they did to me?"
"I know; they threw you out of court; treated you like a dog."
"Worse than a dog. I said that day when they got their verdict that I'd make them sorry for it. I propose to do it, and I want you to help me."
"How?"
"I want Richard Malleson smashed. I want his company wrecked. I'll be satisfied with nothing less."
"You've laid out a big job."
"Do you flinch at it?"
"No; but it's no boys' play to do it."
"You know how?"
"There's only one way; put organized labor on his neck."
"Exactly! That's what I want done."
He looked at her for a moment without replying. She sat there resolute, splendid, perfect, the most desirable thing in the world in the eyes and thought of Stephen Lamar. But she had held him at arm's length. She had drawn a rigid line beyond which he had not dared to trespass. Her coolness had only inflamed his ardor. She had given him, now, something to do which would be not only a test of his ability, but a test also of his declared devotion to her. If he should accomplish the task she was setting for him, surely he would be entitled to a rich compensation. Still looking into her eyes he said:
"And if I succeed in doing what you ask, I shall want my pay for it."
"You shall have it," she replied. "What's your price?"
"You."
She laughed a little. "You shall have," she said, "a man's reward for work well done."
And with that promise he had to be content.
