For the small part he had played in bringing Nan Brent back to Port Agnew, the general manager fully expected to be dismissed from the McKaye service within thirty seconds after old Hector should reach the mill office; hence with the heroism born of twelve hours of preparation he was at his desk at eight o’clock next morning.  At nine o’clock The Laird came in and Mr. Daney saw by his face instantly that old Hector knew.  The general manager rose at his desk and bowed with great dignity.

“Moritori salutamus, sir,” he announced gravely.

“What the devil are you talking about, Daney?” The Laird demanded irritably.

“That’s what the gladiators used to say to the Roman populace.  It means, I believe, ‘We who are about to die, salute you.’  Here is my resignation, Mr. McKaye.”

“Don’t be an ass, Andrew,” The Laird commanded and threw the proffered resignation into the waste basket.  “Why should you resign?”

“To spare the trouble of discharging me, sir.”

“What for?”

“Bringing the Brent girl back to Port Agnew.  If I hadn’t gotten her address from Dirty Dan I would never have suggested to—­”

“Enough.  We will not discuss what might have been, Andrew.  The boy has married her, and since the blow has fallen nothing that preceded it is of the slightest importance.  What I have called to say to you is this:  Donald McKaye is no longer connected with the Tyee Lumber Company.”

“Oh, come, come, sir,” Daney pleaded.  “The mischief is done.  You’ll have to forgive the boy and make the best of a bad business.  What can’t be cured must be endured, you know.”

“Not necessarily.  And you might spare me your platitude, Andrew,” The Laird replied savagely.  “I’m done with the lad forever, for son of mine he is no longer.  Andrew, do you remember the time he bought that red cedar stumpage up on the Wiskah and unloaded it on me at a profit of two hundred thousand dollars?”

Mr. Daney nodded.  “And you, in turn, sold it at a profit of fifty thousand,” he reminded the irate old man.

“Donald did not retain that profit he made at my expense.  ’Twas just a joke with him.  He put the money into bonds and sent them to you with instructions to place them in my vault for my account.”  Mr. Daney nodded and The Laird resumed.  “Take those bonds to the Sawdust Pile, together with a check for all the interest collected on the coupons since they came into my possession, and tell him from me that I’ll take it kindly of him to leave Port Agnew and make a start for himself elsewhere as quickly as he can.  He owes it to his family not to affront it by his presence in Port Agnew, giving ground for gossip and scandal and piling needless sorrow upon us.  And when the Sawdust Pile is again vacant you will remove the Brent house and put in the drying yard you’ve planned this many a year.”

“Very well, sir.  It’s not a task to my liking, but—­” His pause was eloquent.