Clay made no marked change in his mode of living, and shortly after his visit to the doctor he engaged in a struggle with a group of speculators who opposed one of his business schemes. They were clever men, with money enough to make them troublesome enemies, and Clay realized that he must spare no effort if he meant to win. He beat them and determined¹ to exact a heavy indemnity², but the battle was stubbornly fought and during the month it lasted he had little rest by night or day. Long after the city offices were closed he entertained his supporters in his rooms at the hotel, and, rising early, altered and improved his plans before the business day began.  
To his delight, he felt no bad effects; he was somewhat limp and lazy, but that, no doubt, was a natural reaction from the strain. He could now, however, afford to take a few days’ rest, and he telegraphed Aynsley that he would spend the week-end at Osborne’s house, which was always open to both. Enjoying the first-fruits of his victory, in the shape of some tempting³ offers, shortly before he left his office, he traveled down the Sound in high content, and, to complete his satisfaction, he learned on arriving that Aynsley had secured some large and profitable orders for lumber⁴.
 
Dinner was served early on the Saturday evening, and Clay, finding that he had an excellent appetite, ate and drank more than usual. He was quite well, he told himself, but had had an anxious time and needed bracing⁵. Miss Dexter watched him with disapproval⁶ when, after dinner was finished, he stood in the hall with a large glass in his hand. The man had a high color, but his eyes had a strained look and his lips a curious bluish tinge⁷. He appeared to be quite sober, which caused her some surprise, but he was talking rather freely and his laugh was harsh. She thought he looked coarse and overbearing in his present mood.
 
The large hall was tastefully paneled in cedar⁸, a fire of pine logs burned on the open hearth⁹, and small lamps hung among the wooden pillars. A drawing-room and a billiard-room, both warmed and lighted, opened out of it, but Osborne left his guests to do what they liked best, and nobody seemed inclined to move. Ruth and Aynsley were talking near the hearth, Miss Dexter had some embroidery¹⁰ in her hands, and Osborne lounged in a deep chair beside the table. Clay, with the now empty glass in his hand, leaned negligently¹¹ upon the table, feeling well satisfied with himself. His manners were not polished, but he was aware of it, and never pretended to graces he did not possess. He smiled when he caught Miss Dexter’s censorious glance.
 
“I’m often in trouble, ma’am, and find I can’t fight on coffee and ice-water,” he explained humorously.
 
“Perhaps that’s one of their advantages,” Miss Dexter replied. “But as we’re not quarrelsome people, you ought to enjoy a few days’ peace.”
 
“That’s so. I guess I warmed up over telling your brother-in-law about my latest battle.” He turned to Osborne. “Frame and Nesbitt were in this morning, ready to take what I’d give them on their knees. Fletcher came and tried to bluff¹², but he wilted¹³ when I cracked the whip. I have the gang corralled, and they’ll go broke before they get out.”
 
Clay’s rather obvious failings included an indulgence in coarse vainglory, though he had generally the sense to check it when it might prove a handicap. Now, however, he was in an expansive mood, inclined to make the most of his triumph.
 
“The joke is that they were plumb-sure they’d squeeze me dry,” he went on. “Got hold of a tip about the development land purchase plan and never guessed I’d planted it for them. Morgan cost me high, and his nerve is bad, but he’s a cute little rat, and works well in the dark.”
 
“I thought the opposition¹⁴ had bought him,” Osborne said.
 
“So they did,” Clay chuckled¹⁵. “Now they want his blood, and I believe Denby’s mad enough about it to have him sandbagged. That plays into my hand, because the fellow will stick to me for protection. If he tries to strike me for extra pay, I’ve only to threaten I’ll throw him to the wolves. Guess the way they’re howling has scared him pretty bad.”
 
“Have you begun the clean-up yet?”
 
“Washed out the first panful before I came away,” Clay replied in miners’ phraseology. “Ten thousand dollars for two small back lots. It’s all good pay-dirt, carrying heavy metal.”
 
“In a way, I’m sorry for Fletcher. He’s had a bad time lately, and, as he has got into low water, I’m afraid this will finish him.”
 
“He joined the gang. Now he has to take the consequences.”
 
Clay saw that Miss Dexter was listening with disapproval. He was not averse¹⁶ to having an audience and he had spoken loudly.
 
“If you saw the people who’d conspired¹⁸ to rob you come to grief through their greediness, what would you do about it, Miss Dexter?” he asked.
 
“I should try not to gloat over their downfall,” she answered with some asperity¹⁹.
 
“Looks better,” Clay agreed. “But when I have the fellows down, it seems prudent²⁰ to see that they don’t get up again too soon.”
 
Miss Dexter studied him. Admitting that modesty²¹ would have become him better, she did not believe he was boasting at random²². There was power in the man, though she imagined he did not often use it well. She disliked his principles, and he frequently repelled²³ her, but sometimes she felt attracted. He had, she thought, a better side than the one he generally showed.
 
“Does it never pay to be merciful?” she asked.
 
“Very seldom. In my line of business you have, as a rule, to break or be broken hard. It’s a hard fight. I keep the rules of the ring. Sometimes they’re pretty liberally interpreted, but if you go too far, you get hustled²⁴ out and disqualified. In this country the stakes are high, but I’ve been through the hardest training since I was a boy, and I’ve got to win.” He paused with a glance toward Aynsley. “Sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it? But I know my powers, and I can’t be stopped.”
 
His forceful air gave him a touch of dignity and redeemed²⁵ the crude daring of his boast. Osborne looked at him curiously²⁶, but Miss Dexter felt half daunted²⁷. She thought his attitude grossly defiant²⁸; the inordinate²⁹ pride he showed would bring its punishment.
 
“It sounds very rash,” she said. “You don’t know what you may have to contend with.”
 
Clay laughed harshly.
 
“I’ve some suspicion; but there comes a time, often after years of struggle, when a man knows he has only to hold on and win the game. Curious, isn’t it? But he does know, and sets his teeth as he braces³⁰ himself for the effort that’s going to give him the prize.”
 
He spoke¹⁷ with vehemence³¹, the color darkening in his face. Miss Dexter wondered whether the last glass of whisky and potass had gone to his head; but the flush suddenly faded and his lips turned blue. Osborne was the first to notice it. Jumping up, he grabbed Clay by the arms and shoved him toward the nearest chair. Clay fell into it heavily, and began fumbling³² at his vest pocket, but he soon let his hand drop in a nerveless manner. The next moment Aynsley was at his side. The hall was large, and the boy had been sitting some distance off, but he did not run and he made no noise. He had inherited his father’s swiftness of action, and Ruth, following in alarm, noticed the lithe³³ grace of his movements. The girl’s impressions were, however, somewhat blurred³⁴, and it was not until afterward³⁵ that the scen............