"Why our finishing the transaction with Kenneth instead of with you direct," said Crosby, looking up in surprise at the tone, "wasn't that all right?"
Boyd made an effort and about-faced. The surprise was almost too much.
"Perfectly," he managed to say, "but I haven't been home yet. I didn't know he had considered it necessary. You say he has the notes and the transfer of mortgage? Did he pay for them? In full?"
Ten minutes later Boyd left the bank with his chest out and his head up. All the details were not yet clear—as, for example, where Kenneth had raised such a sum of money. But they were only details. Undoubtedly he had used Boyd's credit with Los Angeles banks; or hypothecated securities in the East—it did not matter. The big thing was that Ken had gone to the bat. He had seen the crisis and had acted. That was the kind of a boy to have! Took considerable business judgment to appreciate the importance of action; and a lot of business initiative to carry the thing through! Think they could do up the Boyd clan, did they? Well, they could think again.
At this moment his eye chanced on Herbert Corbell leaning against a lamp post on the corner. So high ran his fierce exultation that Boyd, contrary to his usual instinct, could not forbear triumphing over him. Those eight days of savage repression must be remembered.
"Well, young man," he sneered. "I hope you know by this time that your little scheme has failed."
"I don't know what you mean by that," replied Corbell, looking at him steadily.
"Oh, don't you? Well. I'm sick of all this mystery bluff; and I'm going to tell you to your face. I'm sick of acting the fool; and I'm sick of letting you think you've fooled me at any stage of the game. You got me out of the way so you and your associates could step in and buy the Peyton mortgage. Do you deny that?"
"No, I don't deny that," agreed Corbell, equably.
"Aha, I thought not! Well, you forgot I had a son, didn't you? And a son with a damned good head on his shoulders.
