"I've done you out of your job." Then he added to the old man: "It's good news I've got. I've made the contract with the French firm at our price."
"At our price!" remarked the other with a grim smile. "For the lot?"
"Yes, for the lot, and I've made the contracts with the ships to carry it."
"At our price?" again asked the old man. Tarboe nodded. "Just a little better."
"I wouldn't have believed those two things could have been done in the time." Grier rubbed his hands cheerfully. "That's a good day's work. It's the best you've done since you've come."
Carnac watched the scene with interest. No envy moved him, his soul was free from malice. Evidently Tarboe was a man of power. Ruthless he might be, ruthless and unsparing, but a man of power.
At that instant a clerk entered with a letter in his hand. "Mrs. Grier said to give you this," he remarked to Carnac, handing it to him.
Carnac took it and the clerk departed. The letter had an American postmark, and the handwriting on the letter brought trouble to his eyes. He composed himself, however, and tore off the end of the envelope, taking out the letter.
It was brief. It contained only a few lines, but as Carnac read them the colour left his face. "Good God!" he said to himself. Then he put the paper in his pocket, and, with a forced smile and nod to his father and Tarboe, left the office.
"That's queer. The letter seemed to get him in the vitals," said John Grier with surprise.
Tarboe nodded, and said to himself: "It's a woman all right." He smiled to himself also. He had wondered why Carnac and Junia Shale had not come to an understanding. The letter which had turned Carnac pale was the interpretation.
"Say, sit down, Tarboe," said John Grier. "I want to talk with you."