In either case, having been useful to Neergard,
his profits from the transaction would have been considerable.
But, even while he was absorbed in figuring them up--and he needed the
money, as usual--Neergard coolly informed him of his election to the
club, and Ruthven, thunder-struck, began to perceive the depth of the
underground mole tunnels which Neergard had dug to undermine and capture
the stronghold which had now surrendered to him.
Rage made him ill for a week; but there was nothing to do about it. He
had been treacherous to his club and to his own caste, and Neergard knew
it--and knew perfectly well that Ruthven dared not protest--dared not
even whimper.
Then Neergard began to use Ruthven when he needed him; and he began to
permit himself to win at cards in Ruthven's house--a thing he had not
dared to do before. He also permitted himself more ease and freedom in
that house--a sort of intimacy _sans facon_--even a certain jocularity.
He also gave himself the privilege of inviting the Ruthvens on board the
_Niobrara_; and Ruthven went, furious at being forced to stamp with his
open approval an episode which made Neergard a social probability.
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