I didn't know of the stupendous power my grandfather's money had rolled up for them.

I didn't know"-- her voice sank to a shuddering whisper--"I didn't know how they were using it in Alaska, for instance.
I didn't know it was feeding upon starvation and ruin and death.

I don't think even Uncle Peter knew _that_." She looked at Alan steadily, and her gray eyes seemed burning up with a slow fire.
"Why, even then, before Uncle Peter died, I had become one of the biggest factors in all their schemes.

It was impossible for me to suspect that John Graham was _anticipating_ a little girl of thirteen, and I didn't guess that my Grandfather Standish, so straight, so grandly white of beard and hair, so like a god of power when he stood among men, was even then planning that I should be given to him, so that a monumental combination of wealth might increase itself still more in that juggernaut of financial achievement for which he lived.

And to bring about my sacrifice, to make sure it would not fail, they set Sharpleigh to the task, because Sharpleigh was sweet and good of face, and gentle like Uncle Peter, so that I loved him and had confidence in him, without a suspicion that under his white hair lay a brain which matched in cunning and mercilessness that of John Graham himself.