Mr. Isaac Ruferton rose from his chair, and stood looking into the face of his employer as though searching for some indication of incipient lunacy.  What he read was inflexible command.

“Mr. Burton,” he said slowly, “I’m where I am in life because I have been willing to undertake various things at various times.  Other men would have shied at some of them, and even I have my limits.  Will you suggest to me how I am, within twenty-four hours, to travel twenty hours by rail, and compel an unwilling man to deliver, merely because you order it, stock which he has no wish to sell?”

Burton’s answer rose to anger as he spoke.  “If you can’t trade with him—­and I have given you carte blanche—­I have already told you to bring him here.  I’ll do the rest.”

“In God’s name, how?  Can I drag him out of his own house and load him like a trussed pig in a railway car?”

“The details are up to you.  You are supposed to be a clever lawyer.  The man is in a political campaign and you know enough of his record to give weight to your suggestions.  You say he doesn’t want to sell—­make him want to!  My plans are rather too large to admit of ‘buts’ and ‘ifs.’  Presumably I employ men who can override them.”

Ruferton continued to stare blankly.  “But—­surely—­”

Hamilton had already turned to Tarring and he wheeled with a snap in his voice.

“Ruferton,” he exclaimed, “in a moment more you will irritate me.  I said get his Coal and Ore, or get him.  I don’t give a damn how you do it.  Tell him, if you like that all Tammany can’t boost him on to the appellate bench if I go after him.  If you prefer, gag him and drag him here.  Do what you like—­except waste time by gaping at me.  Succeed and name your reward.  Fail and—­” Hamilton Burton shrugged his shoulders.

Slowly a light crept into the resourceful eyes of Mr. Ruferton, driving out the vacancy.  The matter by its very desperateness began to appeal to him, and already a formula of campaign was shaping itself in his constructive mind.  This extraordinary man’s hypnotic dominance of personality had carried other audacious days and now it swept the lawyer with its tide of confidence.  Mr. Ruferton became at once the man who recognizes the value of seconds and minutes.  “I will be here tomorrow evening at this hour,” he categorically announced.  “And I shall bring with me a proxy or a senator—­or his remains.  Kindly arrange for my train.  I go direct to the Grand Central.”

Hamilton Burton smiled at the door through which his emissary had departed.

“He made as much furore about it as though I had required him to do something really difficult,” he commented to the lieutenant who still awaited his orders.  “Now for your part....  The Metallic National and the Deposit Savings.”  Between sentences he picked up the desk-telephone and called a private number.

“I want to talk to Mr. Carter....  Not at home!  Where is he?...  Doesn’t want to be disturbed—­he’s got to be....  Yes, this is Hamilton Burton....  At the opera, you say?  Thank you.”