quickly--he was accustomed to accepting risks at which others
shied, but the risk he was now contemplating meant the taking of
an unwarranted liberty that might be resented and might result in
the loss of a friendship that he valued. But he was going to take the
risk--as he had taken many another--he had known that from the
first. He screwed his eyeglass firmer into his eye, a characteristic
gesture well-known on the New York stock market.

"Ever see _Madame Butterfly_? he asked abruptly.

"Yes."

Atherton blew another big cloud of smoke.

"Damn fool, Pinkerton," he said gruffly, "Never could see the
attraction myself--dancing girls--almond eyes--and all that sort
of thing."

Craven made no answer but his whistling stopped suddenly and the
knuckles of his clasped hands whitened. Atherton looked away
quickly and his eyeglass fell with a little tinkle against a
waistcoat button. There was another long pause. Finally the music
died away and the stillness was broken only by the soft slap-slap
of the water against the ship's side.

Atherton scowled at his immaculate deck shoes and then seized his
eyeglass again decisively.

"Say, Barry, you saved my life in the Rockies that trip and I
guess a fellow whose life you've saved has a pull on you no one