“Nothing, but I found out the other day that old Hargus⁠—poor old, broken-backed, half-starved Hargus⁠—I found out that it was Scannel that ruined him. Hargus and he had a big deal on, you know⁠—oh, ages ago⁠—and Scannel sold out on him. Great God, it was the dirtiest, damnedest treachery I ever heard of! Scannel made his pile, and what’s Hargus now? Why, he’s a scarecrow. And he has a little niece that he supports, heaven only knows how. I’ve seen her, and she’s pretty as a picture. Well, that’s all right; I’m going to carry fifty thousand wheat for Hargus, and I’ve got another scheme for him, too. By God, the poor old boy won’t go hungry again if I know it! But if I lay my hands on Scannel⁠—if we catch him in the corner⁠—holy, suffering Moses, but I’ll make him squeal!”

Gretry nodded, to say he understood and approved.

“I guess you’ve got him,” he remarked. “Well, I must get to bed. Good night, J. ”

“Good night, Sam. See you in the morning.”