“Nothing; I never met him. But, as soon as you have[49] seen Stanhope, and I am sure that these two sharp fellows are prepared to hunt down poor Pearson’s assassins, I will meet him, if the notice is his, for I am going to Australia.”

[49]

“Ah!”

“Yes; I can do no good here. To-morrow morning, business will take me out of the city. When I return, in two days, let me have Stanhope’s answer.”

When Richard Stanhope appeared at the office that night a little later than usual, the story of Arthur Pearson and his mysterious death was related for the third time that day, and the strange and munificent offer of the stranger, for the second time rehearsed by the Chief.

“What do you think of it, my boy? Are you anxious to try for a fortune?”

“No, thank you.”

It was said as coolly as if he were declining a bad cigar.

“Consider, Dick.”

“There is no need. Van and I have pulled together too long to let a mere matter of money come between us. He would never accept such a proposition.”

The Chief bit his lip and remained silent.

“Or if he did,” went on Stanhope, “he would not work against me. Tell your patron that with Van Vernet I will undertake the case. He may make Van his chief, and I will gladly assist. Without Van as my rival, I will work it alone; but against him, as his rival for honors and lucre, never!”

The Chief slowly arose, and resting his hands upon the shoulders of the younger man, looked in his face with fatherly pride.

“Dick, you’re a splendid fellow, and a shrewd detective,[50]” he said, “but you have a weakness. You study strangers, but you trust your friends with absolute blindness. Van is ambitious.”

[50]

“So am I.”

“He loves money.”

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