"And you, Mr. Prescott---may I depend upon you, also,
to preserve silence?"
"I'm afraid, sir, you're putting me in Reade's class as an insulted man,"
Dick smiled grimly. "My friend, the people of this country, in the person
of their President, have issued to me a commission certifying that I am
worthy to wear the shoulder-straps of an army officer. The shoulder-straps
stand for the strictest sense of honor in all things. If I depart, ever
so little, from the laws of honor, I prove my unfitness to wear
shoulder-straps. Have I answered you."
There was silence for a few moments. Then, Mr. Bascomb, having smoked his
cigar out, tossed the butt away.
"I'd like to offer you a little advice, Mr. Bascomb, if you won't think
I'm too forward."
"What is it?" asked the president, turning briskly upon the young chief
engineer.
"Just as long as you both live, Mr. Bascomb, Evarts is likely to bother
you, in one way or another. Even if he goes to prison himself he'll find
a way to bother you from the other side of the grated door. Mr. Bascomb,
why don't you yourself disclose this little affair in your past history
to the board of directors? Then it would be past any blackmailer's power
to harm you.
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