with bitterness.

There was a long silence in the room, where the early dusk was
deepening. The two men regarded each other with expressions that did not
soften.

After a time Britt turned to his desk, unlocked a compartment, and
produced a letter, which he unfolded slowly, again staring hard at the
cashier.

"Speaking of being sentenced!" There was something ominous in his drawl.
"You told me a whole lot about yourself, Vaniman, when I was talking of
hiring you. But there was one important thing you didn't mention--mighty
important, seeing that you wanted a job as boss of a bank." He tapped
the open letter. "I've had this letter for a good many weeks, not saying
anything about it to you or anybody else. I'm not sure just why I'm
saying anything now."

Vaniman flushed. His face worked with emotion. He put up his hand and
started to speak, but Britt put up a more compelling hand and went on.
"I reckon I'm bringing this matter up so that you'll know just where
you stand--so that you'll mind your eye and look out for my interests
in every way from now on--so that--" He hesitated a moment. His eyes
flamed. "So that you'll know your place! That's it! Know your place--and
be mighty careful how you go against me in anything--anything where I'm
interested." Britt had whipped himself into anger. That anger, fanned by
a flame of jealousy after it had been touched off by his inspection of
youth and good looks, had carried Mr. Britt far. He shook the letter at
the young man. "There's a reliable name signed to this letter; he is a
friend of mine, one of the big financiers in the city, and this was in