“I suppose I am forfeiting all which this family means to me by my seeming disloyalty to you, Mr. Gorham; but I honestly feel that I am more loyal than if I played the hypocrite.  I see you carrying on the business of this corporation surrounded by men whose only thought is of themselves, who accept your judgment simply because it puts dollars into their pockets, who permit you to exercise your ideals only because they know that it means profit to them.  Yet you have been consistent, you have been straightforward, you have lived up to the standards which you have taught me to expect.  But can’t you see, Mr. Gorham”—­the boy held out both arms supplicatingly—­“can’t you see that there isn’t a single man in that great organization who feels as you do?  Can’t you see that even Senator Kenmore is thinking only of himself?”

“You forget Mr. Covington and—­yourself,” Gorham answered.

“I don’t cut any ice, one way or the other,” Allen protested, “but I haven’t forgotten Mr. Covington.  I tell you, Mr. Gorham—­forgive me, Alice—­Mr. Covington is the worst of all.  He’s the one who has influenced the committee to take their stand against you; he’s helping them plan things out now so as to throw you down, hoping to become president himself; he’s trying to marry Alice so that you can’t expose him when you begin to unravel his double cross.  I tell you, he’s the slickest Johnnie outside of State’s Prison.”

“Of course you have unquestionable proof to support all this, Allen?” Gorham demanded, sternly.

“No, I haven’t, and I shouldn’t speak; but I know I’m right,” was the dogged reply.

“Do you realize what it means to make such unsubstantiated statements?”

“But I have everything except the actual proofs,” he pleaded.

“What else can you have?”

“I know how he’s been investing Alice’s money for her, for instance.”

“What of that; it was done with my consent.”

“With your consent?” Allen repeated, bewildered.  “Then you knew—­with your principles—­”

Gorham was thoroughly angry now, but he delayed replying until he could choose his words in the presence of his wife and daughter.

“I have borne with this long enough,” he interrupted.  “I have been patient with you because I sympathized with your disappointment regarding Alice—­but my patience is at an end.  Your jealousy has so warped your sense of right and wrong that you are willing to attack the reputation of a man of honor and integrity, trying to injure him in the eyes of those who respect him.  I warned you against this, and you have failed to heed my warning.  Much as I regret it, on many accounts, there is no alternative—­your usefulness to the Companies is at an end.”

Allen rose and looked searchingly into Gorham’s face.  He could read in the lines which he saw there a real suffering which touched him deeply.  No man, not even his father, had come so closely into his life as Mr. Gorham, and the boy’s heart was wrung with pain that he should be the cause of adding to his burdens.  But his gaze into those expressive eyes seemed to bewilder him still further, for he passed his hand in a dazed manner across his forehead.