“If so, only by my enemies.  One of the robbers was captured and made a full confession.  He showed where the stolen gold was cached and it was recovered.”

The great man looked with chilly eyes at the young fellow standing in front of him.  He had a sense of having been tricked and imposed upon.

“I have decided not to accept your proposition to cooperate with you in financing the Jackpot Company, Mr. Sanders.”  Horace Graham pressed an electric button and a clerk appeared.  “Show this gentleman out, Hervey.”

But Sanders stood his ground.  Nobody could have guessed from his stolid imperturbability how much he was depressed at this unexpected failure.

“Do I understand that you are declining this loan because I am connected with it, Mr. Graham?”

“I do not give a reason, sir.  The loan does not appeal to me,” the railroad builder said with chill finality.

“It appealed to you yesterday,” persisted Dave.

“But not to-day.  Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once.  Tell McMurray so.”

Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room.  He had been checkmated, but he did not know how.  In some way Steelman had got to the financier with this story that had damned the project.  The new treasurer of the Jackpot Company was much distressed.  If his connection with the company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once.

He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to warm his heart.

“You don’t remember me, Mr. West?”

The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and gave a little whoop.  “Damn my skin, if it ain’t the boy who bluffed a whole railroad system into lettin’ him reload stock for me!” He hooked an arm under Dave’s and led him straight to the bar.  “Where you been?  What you doin’?  Why n’t you come to me soon as you ... got out of a job?  What’ll you have, boy?”

Dave named ginger ale.  They lifted glasses.

“How?”

“How?”

“Now you tell me all about it,” said West presently, leading the way to a lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery.

Sanders answered at first in monosyllables, but presently he found himself telling the story of his failure to enlist Horace Graham in the Jackpot property as a backer.

The cattleman began to rumple his hair, just as he had done years ago in moments of excitement.

“Wish I’d known, boy.  I’ve been acquainted with Horace Graham ever since he ran a hardware store on Larimer Street, and that’s ’most thirty years ago.  I’d ‘a’ gone with you to see him.  Maybe I can see him now.”

“You can’t change the facts, Mr. West.  When he knew I was a convict he threw the whole thing overboard.”

The voice of a page in the lobby rose in sing-song.  “Mister Sa-a-anders.  Mis-ter Sa-a-a-anders.”