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Ivor shook his head.

“You never can tell, Victor,” he said seriously. “They’re a terror to the muck of this place now, I agree. Maybe later they’ll be a terror, anyway, that’s the way of these things. So long as they act the way they are we’re all glad, we must be. Any feller with a wide mind would be crazy to feel bad about them, but,” he shook his head and flung the stump of his cigar almost viciously into the stove, “maybe it’ll just drift into the usual. With the others out of the way they’ll do the hold-up. Then the Government, thousands of miles away’ll butt in. The Aurora Clan will get cleaned right up and back we’ll fall into the muck those boys did their best to haul us out of. No, I’ve a brief for them. I surely have. But when they’ve done their work and start getting gay for themselves, I’ll be as ready as any one to start cleaning them up. It’s a hell of a place, anyway!”

McLagan remained gazing into the stove with eyes that had lost their usual twinkle. He was a man of immense resolution and capacity. A brilliant mining engineer, he yearned for wider scope in the affairs of life. So far all his energies had been directed to the earth’s remote places, seeking those treasures for his Corporation which at any cost must be acquired for the purposes of satisfying voracious shareholders. And Victor Burns, watching him, understood something of the restless, dissatisfied spirit driving him. He was a shrewd judge of men, as are most real bankers, and this burly, plain creature, all energy and capacity, more than usually interested him.