I have a hunch that
you'll be happier if you don't try to drag the cover off of that
particular cesspool."
"Listen," said Blount shortly. "When my father turned me down last night
I told him that I still had five days in which to--"
"I know," Gantry nodded. "Just the same, you're not going to do it."
"If I don't, it will be because I can't; because the time is too short."
Then, with a sudden and impulsive gesture of appeal: "Dick, for Heaven's
sake help me to find that man Gryson, if you know where he is! I shall
blow up if I can't do something!"
Gantry rose and tossed the second cigarette among the coals in the
grate.
"I've been afraid all along that they'd corner you and beat you to death
with feather-dusters," he lamented. "And the only thing I can say will
make matters worse instead of better. I have it pretty straight that
Gryson has been fired--shooed out of town, and probably out of the
State."
"Who did it, Gantry?"
"There is only one man in this bailiwick who can take the whip to a
fellow like Tom Gryson. I guess I don't need to name him for you, Evan."
Blount got out of his chair and stood with his back to the fire, and his
face was white.
"Good God! the rottenness of it, Dick!" he groaned. And then: "I've got
to get out of this and begin all over again in some corner of the world
where at least one man in ten hasn't forgotten the meaning of common
honesty and decency and fair dealing.
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