Mellen's mind awoke. "What's that? Certain of what?" But he still looked blankly puzzled. It made the president uncomfortable. He repeated:
"It can't be," said the richest man in the world. "It can't be. Of course not. And yet--" He paused. He clenched his hands; his lips were pressed tightly together. Into his eyes there came a straining look. Gradually the tense lines about his mouth relaxed. He murmured doubtfully: "But he might as well make it. Perhaps he does. He has the gold. He will have more."
"I am sure of that," agreed Dawson, not over-cordially, but still as if that were his firm conviction.
"We must find out more about him. Are we going to take his word for all he says? Even if he made it he must make it out of something. Where does the gold come from? How does it come?"
"It comes from his furnace. Costello all but saw it. He--"
"Why didn't he see it?" interjected Mel-len, glaring at Dawson. "Why don't you put a hundred men at work? Is that all you can learn about this man?"
Dawson had never before seen his financial backer display vehemence, ever so slightly, for the power of fabulous wealth had given an almost pious severity to Mellen. The years of golden invulnerability seemed to have rolled away from the richest man in the world, and left him an impatient youth, crossed in some cherished plan, exasperated, after long and soothing immunity from attack, at being forced into defenciveness. The president said to him, not servilely at all, but nevertheless with more than a suggestion of self-defence:
"We have done all that men could do. Grinnell had been at this work only eight or ten weeks, and he already has fifty millions in cash. It it were not for that you might call him a charlatan, a trickster of some sort. You believed what he said when he spoke of his plans; you did not think he was lying. You know men as well as I do. What impression did he produce on you? The gold comes out of his house. His servants won't talk. I told Costello to offer them any price for information. But he was convinced it could not be done without Grinnell's learning of it, and we don't want him to know; or, how do we know what complications might follow? Costello doesn't think they know anything, anyhow. The house is guarded day and night. Costello himself went into the cellar with a load of coal. There is no doubt that Grinnell takes no gold into the house, and that the gold comes out of the electrical furnace. He has fifty millions now, and he won't rest until he has a billion. That is his minimum. And, in the meantime, if somebody learns his secret--"