“Is that a threat?” I demanded.

“A threat?” he repeated.  “Not at all.”

“But you are accusing me—­”

“Of what?” he interrupted suddenly.

He had made it necessary for me to define the nature of his charges.

“Of having had some connection with the affair in question.”

“Whatever else I may be, I’m not a fool,” he said quietly.  “Neither the district attorney’s office, nor young Arbuthnot had brains enough to get them out of that scrape.  Jason didn’t have influence enough with the judiciary, and, as I happen to know, there was a good deal of money spent.”

“You may be called upon to prove it,” I retorted, rather hotly.

“So I may.”

His tone, far from being defiant, had in it a note of sadness.  I looked at him.  What were his potentialities?  Was it not just possible that I should have to revise my idea of him, acknowledge that he might become more formidable than I had thought?

There was an awkward silence.

“You mustn’t imagine, Paret, that I have any personal animus against you, or against any of the men with whom you’re associated,” he went on, after a moment.  “I’m sorry you’re on that side, that’s all,—­I told you so once before.  I’m not calling you names, I’m not talking about morality and immorality.  Immorality, when you come down to it, is often just the opposition to progress that comes from blindness.  I don’t make the mistake of blaming a few individuals for the evils of modern industrial society, and on the other hand you mustn’t blame individuals for the discomforts of what you call the reform movement, for that movement is merely a symptom—­a symptom of a disease due to a change in the structure of society.  We’ll never have any happiness or real prosperity until we cure that disease.  I was inclined to blame you once, at the capital that time, because it seemed to me that a man with all the advantages you have had and a mind like yours didn’t have much excuse.  But I’ve thought about it since; I realize now that I’ve had a good many more ‘advantages’ than you, and to tell you the truth, I don’t see how you could have come out anywhere else than where you are,—­all your surroundings and training were against it.  That doesn’t mean that you won’t grasp the situation some day—­I have an idea you will.  It’s just an idea.  The man who ought to be condemned isn’t the man that doesn’t understand what’s going on, but the man who comes to understand and persists in opposing it.”  He rose and looked down at me with the queer, disturbing smile I remembered.  “I get off at this corner,” he added, rather diffidently.  “I hope you’ll forgive me for being personal.  I didn’t mean to be, but you rather forced it on me.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” I replied.  The car stopped, and he hurried off.  I watched his tall figure as it disappeared among the crowd on the sidewalk....