Mr. Sabin laughed softly.

"You bid high," he said. "I begin to suspect that our friends on
the other side of the water have been more than ordinarily kind to
you."

"I will give you--forty thousand dollars."

Mr. Sabin raised his eyebrows.

"So much? After all, that sounds more like fear than anything.
You cannot hope to make a profitable deal out of that. Dear me!
It seems only a few minutes ago that I heard your interesting friend,
Mr. Skinner, shake with laughter at the mention of such a thing as
a secret society."

"Skinner is a blasted fool," Horser exclaimed fiercely. "Listen
here, Mr. Sabin. You can read that report if you must, but, as
I'm a living man you'll not stir from New York if you do. I'll
make your life a hell for you. Don't you understand that no one
but a born fool would dare to quarrel with me in this city? I
hold the prison keys, the police are mine. I shall make my own
charge, whatever I choose, and they shall prove it for me."

Mr. Sabin shook his head.

"This sounds very shocking," he remarked. "I had no idea that the
largest city of the most enlightened country in the world was in
such a sorry plight."