It's your task to make Vard Waymouth see that he ought to
stand. You can do it. Begin with him where you left off."
Harlan hesitated.
"Well?" inquired the Duke, a bit petulantly.
"I've been used to talking straight out to you, grandfather. I'm willing
to help as far as it's in my poor power. But I want you to tell me that
I'm not being used as a decoy-duck in this thing."
"I reckon you'd better explain that, son," said the Duke, stiffly.
"It's your own fault that I'm saying a word about it. But you did some
talking after we came away from General Waymouth's house. It wasn't so
much what you said; it was what you intimated. I believe in General
Waymouth. But if I'm any judge of what has been framed up, he isn't
going to be allowed to do what he wants to do."
"Did I say so?"
"No. But you did say that he would play the game with the chips that are
on the table, not with sugar-plums."
"And you construe that to mean that I'm pulling him into this thing so
as to be able to work him in the interests of the machine, eh?" inquired
the Duke, putting into brutal speech even more than his grandson's vague
suspicions suggested.
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