Upton Sinclair

The Moneychangers
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"But I would like to know very much who made that offer," Lucy
insisted. "I have heard rumours about the stock, and I really would
like to know."

She reiterated this statement several times, and seemed to be very
keen about it; Montague wondered a little who had been talking to
her, and what she had heard. But warned by what the Major had told
him, he did not ask these questions over the 'phone. He answered,
finally, "I think you are making a mistake, but I will do what you
wish."

So he sat down and wrote a note to Messrs. Smith and Hanson, and
said that he would like to have a consultation with a member of
their firm. He sent this note by messenger, and an hour or so later
a wiry little person, with a much-wrinkled face and a shrewd look in
his eyes, came into his office and introduced himself as Mr. Hanson.

"I have been talking with my client about the matter of the Northern
Mississippi stock," said Montague. "You know, perhaps, that this
road was organised under somewhat unusual circumstances; most of the
stockholders were personal friends of our family. For this reason my
client would prefer not to deal with an agent, if it can possibly be
arranged. I wish to find out whether your client would consent to
deal directly with the owner of the stock."

Montague finished what he had to say, although while he was speaking
he noticed that Mr. Hanson was staring at him with very evident
astonishment. Before he finished, this had changed to a slight
sneer.

"What kind of a trick is this you are trying to play on me?" the man
demanded.

Montague was too much taken aback to be angry. He simply stared. "I
don't understand you," he said.

"You don't, eh?" said the other, laughing in his face. "Well, it
seems I know more than you think I do."

"What do you mean?" asked Montague.

"Your client no longer has the stock that you are talking about,"
said the other.

Montague caught his breath. "No longer has the stock!" he gasped.

"Of course not," said Hanson. "She sold it three days ago." Then,
unable to deny himself the satisfaction, he added, "She sold it to
Stanley Ryder. And if you want to know any more about it, she sold
it for a hundred and sixty thousand dollars, and he gave her a six
months' note for a hundred and forty thousand."

Montague was utterly dumfounded. He could do nothing but stare.

It was evident to the other man that his emotion was genuine, and he
smiled sarcastically. "Evidently, Mr. Montague," he said, "you have
been permitting your client to take advantage of you."

Montague caught himself together, and bowed politely. "I owe you an
apology, Mr. Hanson," he said, in a low voice. "I can only assure
you that I was entirely helpless in the matter."

Then he rose and bade the man good morning.

When the door of his office was closed, he caught at the chair by
his desk to steady himself, and stood staring in front of him. "To
Stanley Ryder!" he gasped.

He turned to the 'phone, and called up his friend.

"Lucy," he said, "is it true that you have sold that stock?"

He heard her give a gasp. "Answer me!" he cried.

"Allan," she began, "you are going to be angry with me--"

"Please answer me!" he cried again. "Have you sold that stock?"

"Yes, Allan," she said, "I didn't mean--"

"I don't care to discuss the matter on the telephone," he said. "I
will stop in to see you this afternoon on my way home. Please be in,
because it is important." And then he hung up the receiver.

He called at the time he had set, and Lucy was waiting for him. She
looked pale, and very much distressed. She sat in a chair, and
neither arose to greet him nor spoke to him, but simply gazed into
his face.

It was a very sombre face. "This thing has given me a great deal of
pain," said Montague; "and I don't want to prolong it any more than
necessary. I have thought the matter over, and my mind is made up,
so there need be no discussion. It will not be possible for me to
have anything further to do with your affairs."

Lucy gave a gasp: "Oh, Allan!"

He had a valise containing all her papers. "I have brought
everything up to date," he said. "There are all the accounts, and
the correspondence. Anyone will be able to find exactly how things
stand."

"Allan," she said, "this is really cruel."

"I am very sorry," he answered, "but there is nothing else that I
can do."

"But did I not have a right to sell that stock to Stanley Ryder?"
she cried.

"You had a perfect right to sell it to anyone you pleased," he said.
"But you had no right to ask me to take charge of your affairs, and
then to keep me in the dark about what you had done."

"But, Allan," she protested, "I only sold it three days ago."

"I know that perfectly well," he said; "but the moment you made up
your mind to sell it, it was your business to tell me. That,
however, is not the point. You tried to use me as a cat's-paw to
pull chestnuts out of the fire for Stanley Ryder."

He saw her wince under the words. "Is it not true?" he demanded.
"Was it not he who told you to have me try to get that information?"

"Yes, Allan, of course it was he," said Lucy. "But don't you see my
plight? I am not a business woman, and I did not realise--"

"You realised that you were not dealing frankly with me," he said.
"That is all that I care about, and that is why I am not willing to
continue to represent you. Stanley Ryder has bought your stock, and
Stanley Ryder will have to be your adviser in the future."

He had not meant to discuss the matter with her any further, but he
saw how profoundly he had hurt her, and the old bond between them
held him still.

"Can't you understand what you did to me, Lucy?" he exclaimed.
"Imagine my position, talking to Mr. Hanson, I knowing nothing and
he knowing everything. He knew what you had been paid, and he even
knew that you had taken a note."

Lucy stared at Montague with wide-open eyes. "Allan!" she gasped.

"You see what it means," he said. "I told you that you could not
keep your doings secret. Now it will only be a matter of a few days
before everybody who knows will be whispering that you have
permitted Stanley Ryder to do this for you."

There was a long silence. Lucy sat staring before her. Then suddenly
she faced Montague.

"Allan!" she cried. "Surely--you understand!"

She burst out violently, "I had a right to sell that stock! Ryder
needed it. He is going to organise a syndicate, and develop the
property. It was a simple matter of business."

"I have no doubt of it, Lucy," said Montague, in a low voice, "but
how will you persuade the world of that? I told you what would
happen if you permitted yourself to be intimate with a man like
Stanley Ryder. You will find out too late what it means. Certainly
that incident with Waterman ought to have opened your eyes to what
people are saying."

Lucy gave a start, and gazed at him with horror in her eyes.
"Allan!" she panted.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Do you mean to tell me that happened to me because Stanley Ryder is
my friend?"

"Of course I do," said he. "Waterman had heard the gossip, and he
thought that if Ryder was a rich man, he was a ten-times-richer
man."

Montague could see the colour mount swiftly over Lucy's throat and
face. She stood twisting her hands together nervously. "Oh, Allan!"
she said. "That is monstrous!"

"It is not of my making. It is the way the world is. I found it out
myself, and I tried to point it out to you."

"But it is horrible!" she cried. "I will not believe it. I will not
yield to such things. I will not be coward enough to give up a
friend for such a motive!"

"I know the feeling," said Montague. "I'd stand by you, if it were
another man than Stanley Ryder. But I know him better than you, I
believe."

"You don't, Allan, you can't!" she protested. "I tell you he is a
good man! He is a man nobody understands--"

Montague shrugged his shoulders. "It is possible," he said. "I have
heard that before. Many men are better than the things they do in
this world; at any rate, they like to persuade themselves that they
are. But you have no right to wreck your life out of pity for Ryder.
He has made his own reputation, and if he had any real care for you,
he would not ask you to sacrifice yourself to it."

"He did not ask me to," said Lucy. "What I have done, I have done of
my own free will. I believe in him, and I will not believe the
horrible things that you tell me."

"Very well," said Montague, "then you will have to go your own way."

He spoke calmly, though really his heart was wrung with grief. He
knew exactly the sort of conversation by which Stanley Ryder had
brought Lucy to this state of mind. He could have shattered the
beautiful image of himself which Ryder had conjured up; but he could
not bear to do it. Perhaps it was an instinct which guided him--he
knew that Lucy was in love with the man, and that no facts that
anyone could bring would make any difference to her. All he could
say was, "You will have to find out for yourself."

And then, with one more look at her pitiful face of misery, he
turned and went away, without even touching her hand.






CHAPTER VIII





It was now well on in May, and most of the people of Montague's
acquaintance had moved out to their country places; and those who
were chained to their desks had yachts or automobiles or private
cars, and made the trip into the country every afternoon. Montague
was invited to spend another week at Eldridge Devon's, where Alice
had been for a week; but he could not spare the time until Saturday
afternoon, when he made the trip up the Hudson in Devon's new
three-hundred-foot steam-yacht, the Triton. Some unkind person had
described Devon to Montague as "a human yawn"; but he appeared to
have a very keen interest in life that Saturday afternoon. He had
been seized by a sudden conviction that a new and but little
advertised automobile had proven its superiority to any of the
seventeen cars which he at present maintained in his establishment.
He had got three of these new cars, and while Montague sat upon the
quarter-deck of the Triton and gazed at the magnificent scenery of
the river, he had in his ear the monotonous hum of Devon's voice,
discussing annular ball-bearings and water-jacketed cylinders.

One of the new cars met them at Devon's private pier, and swept them
over the hill to the mansion. The Devon place had never looked more
wonderful to Montague than it did just then, with fruit trees in
full blossom, and the wonder of springtime upon everything. For
miles about one might see hillsides that were one unbroken stretch
of luscious green lawn. But alas, Eldridge Devon had no interest in
these hills, except to pursue a golf-ball over them. Montague never
felt more keenly the pitiful quality of the people among whom he
found himself than when he stood upon the portico of this house--a
portico huge enough to belong to some fairy palace in a dream--and
gazed at the sweeping vista of the Hudson over the heads of Mrs.
Billy Alden and several of her cronies, playing bridge.

* * *

After luncheon, he went for a stroll with Alice, and she told him
how she had been passing the time. "Young Curtiss was here for a
couple of days," she said.

"General Prentice's nephew?" he asked.

"Yes. He told me he had met you," said she. "What do you think of
him?"

"He struck me as a sensible chap," said Montague.

"I like him very much," said Alice. "I think we shall be friends. He
is interesting to talk to; you know he was in a militia regiment
that went to Cuba, and also he's been a cowboy, and all sorts of
exciting things. We took a walk the other morning, and he told me
some of his adventures. They say he's quite a successful lawyer."

"He is in a very successful firm," said Montague. "And he'd hardly
have got there unless he had ability."

"He's a great friend of Laura Hegan's," said Alice. "She was over
here to spend the day. She doesn't approve of many people, so that
is a compliment."

Montague spoke of a visit which he had paid to Laura Hegan, at one
of the neighbouring estates.

"I had quite a talk with her," said Alice. "And she invited me to
luncheon, and took me driving. I like her better than I thought I
would. Don't you like her, Allan?"

"I couldn't say that I really know her," said Montague. "I thought I
might like her, but she did not happen to like me."

"But how could that be?" asked the girl.

Montague smiled. "Tastes are different," he said.

"But there must be some reason," protested Alice. "For she looks at
many things in the same way that you do. I told her I thought she
would be interested to talk to you."

"What did she say?" asked the other.

"She didn't say anything," answered Alice; and then suddenly she
turned to him. "I am sure you must know some reason. I wish you
would tell me."

"I don't know anything definite," Montague answered. "I have always
imagined it had to do with Mrs. Winnie."

"With Mrs. Winnie!" exclaimed Alice, in perplexing wonder.

"I suppose she heard gossip and believed it," he added.

"But that is a shame!" exclaimed the girl. "Why don't you tell her
the truth?"

"_I_ tell her?" laughed Montague. "I have no reason for telling her.
She doesn't care anything in particular about me."

He was silent for a moment or two. "I thought of it once or twice,"
he said. "For it made me rather angry at first. I saw myself going
up to her, and startling her with the statement, 'What you believe
about me is not true!' Then again, I thought I might write her a
letter and tell her. But of course it would be absurd; she would
never acknowledge that she had believed anything, and she would
think I was impertinent."

"I don't believe she would do anything of the sort," Alice answered.
"At least, not if she meant what she said to me. She was talking
about people one met in Society, and how tiresome and conventional
it all was. 'No one ever speaks the truth or deals frankly with
you,' she said. 'All the men spend their time in paying you
compliments about your looks. They think that is all a woman cares
about. The more I come to know them, the less I think of them.'"

"That's just it," said Montague. "One cannot feel comfortable
knowing a girl in her position. Her father is powerful, and some day
she will be enormously rich herself; and the people who gather about
her are seeking to make use of her. I was interested in her when I
first met her. But when I learned more about the world in which she
lives, I shrank from even talking to her."

"But that is rather unfair to her," said Alice. "Suppose all decent
people felt that way. And she is really quite easy to know. She told
me about some charities she is interested in. She goes down into the
slums, on the East Side, and teaches poor children. It seemed to me
a wonderfully daring sort of thing, but she laughed when I said so.
She says those people are just the same as other people, when you
come to know them; you get used to their ways, and then it does not
seem so terrible and far off."

"I imagine it would be so," said Montague, with a smile.

"Her father came over to meet her," Alice added. "She said that was
the first time he had been out of the city in six months. Just fancy
working so hard, and with all the money he has! What in the world do
you suppose he wants more for?"

"I don't suppose it is the money," said he. "It's the power. And
when you have so much money, you have to work hard to keep other
people from taking it away from you."

"He certainly looks as if he ought to be able to protect himself,"
said the girl. "His face is so grim and forbidding. You would hardly
think he could smile, to look at him."

"He is very pleasant, when you know him," said Montague.

"He remembered you, and asked about you," said she. "Wasn't it he
who was going to buy Lucy Dupree's stock?"

"I spoke to him about it," he answered, "but nothing came of it."

There was a moment's pause. "Allan," said Alice, suddenly, "what is
this I hear about Lucy?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"People are talking about her and Mr. Ryder. I overheard Mrs. Landis
yesterday. It's outrageous!"

Montague did hot know what to say. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Alice, "but I think that Victoria Landis is a
horrible woman. I know she herself does exactly as she pleases. And
she tells such shocking stories--"

Montague said nothing.

"Tell me," asked the other, after a pause, "because you've given up
Lucy's business affairs, are we to have nothing to do with her at
all?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I don't imagine she will care to see
me. I have told her about the mistake she's making, and she chooses
to go her own way. So what more can I do?"

* * *

That evening Montague found himself settled on a sofa next to Mrs.
Billy Alden. "What's this I hear about your friend, Mrs. Taylor?"
she asked.

"I don't know," said he, abruptly.

"The fascinating widow seems to be throwing herself away," continued
the other.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Vivie Patton told me," said she. "She's an old flame of Stanley
Ryder's, you know; and so I imagine it came directly from him."

Montague was dumb; he could think of nothing to say.

"It's too bad," said Mrs. Billy. "She is really a charming creature.
And it will hurt her, you know--she is a stranger, and it's a trifle
too sudden. Is that the Mississippi way?"

Montague forced himself to say, "Lucy is her own mistress." But his
feeble impulse toward conversation was checked by Mrs. Billy's
prompt response, "Vivie said she was Stanley Ryder's."

"I understand how you feel," continued the great lady, after a
pause. "Everybody will be talking about it.--Your friend Reggie Mann
heard what Vivie said, and he will see to that."

"Reggie Mann is no friend of mine," said Montague, abruptly.

There was a pause. "How in the world do you stand that man?" he
asked, by way of changing the conversation.

"Oh, Reggie fills his place," was the reply. And Mrs. Billy gazed
about the room. "You see all these women?" she said. "Take them in
the morning and put half a dozen of them together in one room; they
all hate each other like poison, and there are no men around, and
there is nothing to do; and how are you to keep them from
quarrelling?"

"Is that Reggie's role?" asked the other.

"Precisely. He sees a spark fly, and he jumps up and cracks a joke.
It doesn't make any difference what he does--I've known him to crow
like a rooster, or stumble over his own feet--anything to raise a
laugh."

"Aren't you afraid these epigrams may reach your victim?" asked
Montague, with a smile.

"That is what they are intended to do," was the reply.

"I judge you have not many enemies," added Mrs. Billy, after a
pause.

"No especial ones," said he.

"Well," said she, "you should cultivate some. Enemies are the spice
of life. I mean it, really," she declared, as she saw him smile.

"I had never thought of it," said he.

"Have you never known what it is to get into a really good fight?
You see, you are conventional, and you don't like to acknowledge it.
But what is there that wakes one up more than a good, vigorous
hatred? Some day you will realise it--the chief zest in life is to
go after somebody who hates you, and to get him down and see him
squirm."

"But suppose he gets you down?" interposed Montague.

"Ah!" said she, "you mustn't let him! That is what you go into the
fight for. Get after him, and do him first."

"It sounds rather barbarous," said he.

"On the contrary," was the answer, "it's the highest reach of
civilisation. That is what Society is for--the cultivation of the
art of hatred. It is the survival of the fittest in a new realm. You
study your victim, you find out his weaknesses and his foibles, and
you know just where to plant your sting. You learn what he wants,
and you take it away from him. You choose your allies carefully, and
you surround him and overwhelm him; then when you get through with
him, you go after another."

And Mrs. Billy glanced about her at the exquisite assemblage in Mrs.
Devon's Louis Seize drawing-room. "What do you suppose these people
are here for to-night?" she asked.






CHAPTER IX





A weekor two had passed, when one day Oliver called his brother on
the 'phone. "Have you or Alice any engagement this evening?" he
asked. "I want to bring a friend around to dinner."

"Who is it?" inquired Montague.

"Nobody you have heard of," said Oliver. "But I want you to meet
him. You will think he's rather queer, but I will explain to you
afterwards. Tell Alice to take my word for him."

Montague delivered the message, and at seven o'clock they went
downstairs. In the reception room they met Oliver and his friend,
and it was all that Montague could do to repress a look of
consternation.

The name of the personage was Mr. Gamble. He was a little man, a
trifle over five feet high, and so fat that one wondered how he
could get about alone; his chin and neck were a series of rolls of
fat. His face was round like a full moon, and out of it looked two
little eyes like those of a pig. It was only after studying them for
a while that one discovered that they twinkled shrewdly.

Mr. Gamble was altogether the vulgarest-looking personage that Alice
Montague had ever met. He put out a fat little hand to her, and she
touched it gingerly, and then gazed at Oliver and his brother in
helpless dismay.

"Good evening. Good evening," he began volubly. "I am charmed to
meet you. Mr. Montague, I have heard so much about you from your
brother that I feel as if we were old friends."

There was a moment's pause. "Shall we go into the dining-room?"
asked Montague.

He did not much relish the stares which would follow them, but he
could see no way out of the difficulty. They went into the room and
seated themselves, Montague wondering in a flash whether Mr.
Gamble's arms would be long enough to reach to the table in front of
him.

"A warm evening," he said, puffing slightly. "I have been on the
train all day."

"Mr. Gamble comes from Pittsburg," interposed Oliver.

"Indeed?" said Montague, striving to make conversation. "Are you in
business there?"

"No, I am out of business," said Mr. Gamble, with a smile. "Made my
pile, so to speak, and got out. I want to see the world a bit before
I get too old."

The waiter came to take their orders; in the meantime Montague
darted an indignant glance at his brother, who sat and smiled
serenely. Then Montague caught Alice's eye, and he could almost hear
her saying to him, "What in the world am I going to talk about?"

But it proved not very difficult to talk with the gentleman from
Pittsburg. He appeared to know all the gossip of the Metropolis, and
he cheerfully supplied the topics of conversation. He had been to
Palm Beach and Hot Springs during the winter, and told about what he
had seen there; he was going to Newport in the summer, and he talked
about the prospects there. If he had the slightest suspicion of the
fact that all his conversation was not supremely interesting to
Montague and his cousin, he gave no hint of it.

After he had disposed of the elaborate dinner which Oliver ordered,
Mr. Gamble proposed that they visit one of the theatres. He had a
box all ready, it seemed, and Oliver accepted for Alice before
Montague could say a word for her. He spoke for himself,
however,--he had important work to do, and must be excused.

He went upstairs and shook off his annoyance and plunged into his
work. Sometime after midnight, when he had finished, he went out for
a breath of fresh air, and as he returned he found Oliver and his
friend standing in the lobby of the hotel.

"How do you do, Mr. Montague?" said Gamble. "Glad to see you again."

"Alice has just gone upstairs," said Oliver. "We were going to sit
in the cafe awhile. Will you join us?"

"Yes, do," said Mr. Gamble, cordially.

Montague went because he wanted to have a talk with Oliver before he
went to bed that night.

"Do you know Dick Ingham?" asked Mr. Gamble, as they seated
themselves at a table.

"The Steel man, you mean?" asked Montague. "No, I never met him."

"We were talking about him," said the other. "Poor chap--it really
was hard luck, you know. It wasn't his fault. Did you ever hear the
true story?"

"No," said Montague, but he knew to what the other referred. Ingham
was one of the "Steel crowd," as they were called, and he had been
president of the Trust until a scandal had forced his resignation.

"He is an old friend of mine," said Gamble; "he told me all about
it. It began in Paris--some newspaper woman tried to blackmail him,
and he had her put in jail for three months. And when she got out
again, then the papers at home began to get stories about poor
Ingham's cutting up. And the public went wild, and they made him
resign--just imagine it!"

Gamble chuckled so violently that he was seized by a coughing spell,
and had to signal for a glass of water.

"They've got a new scandal on their hands now," said Oliver.

"They're a lively crowd, the Steel fellows," laughed the other.
"They want to make Davidson resign, too, but he'll fight them. He
knows too much! You should hear his story!"

"I imagine it's not a very savoury one," said Montague, for lack of
something to say.

"It's too bad," said the other, earnestly. "I have talked to them
sometimes, but it don't do any good. I remember Davidson one night:
'Jim,' says he, 'a fellow gets a whole lot of money, and he buys him
everything he wants, until at last he buys a woman, and then his
trouble begins. If you're buying pictures, there's an end to it--you
get your walls covered sooner or later. But you never can satisfy a
woman.'" And Mr. Gamble shook his head. "Too bad, too bad," he
repeated.

"Were you in the steel business yourself?" asked Montague, politely.

"No, no, oil was my line. I've been fighting the Trust, and last
year they bought me out, and now I'm seeing the world."

Mr. Gamble relapsed into thought again. "I never went in for that
sort of thing myself," he said meditatively; "I am a married man, I
am, and one woman is enough for me."

"Is your family in New York?" asked Montague, in an effort to change
the subject.

"No, no, they live in Pittsburg," was the answer. "I've got four
daughters--all in college. They're stunning girls, I tell you--I'd
like you to meet them, Mr. Montague."

"I should be pleased," said Montague, writhing inwardly. But a few
minutes later, to his immense relief, Mr. Gamble arose, and bade him
good night.

Montague saw him clamber laboriously into his automobile, and then
he turned to his brother.

"Oliver," he asked, "what in the devil does this mean?"

"What mean?" asked Oliver, innocently.

"That man," exclaimed the other.

"Why, I thought you would like to meet him," said Oliver; "he is an
interesting chap."

"I am in no mood for fooling," said his brother, angrily. "Why in
the world should you insult Alice by introducing such a man to her?"

"Why, you are talking nonsense!" exclaimed Oliver; "he knows the
best people--"

"Where did you meet him?" asked Montague.

"Mrs. Landis introduced him to me first. She met him through a
cousin of hers, a naval officer. He has been living in Brooklyn this
winter. He knows all the navy people."

"What is it, anyway?" demanded Montague, impatiently. "Is it some
business affair that you are interested in?"

"No, no," said Oliver, smiling cheerfully--"purely social. He wants
to be introduced about, you know."

"Are you going to put him into Society, by any chance?" asked the
other, sarcastically.

"You are warm, as the children say," laughed his brother.

Montague stared at him. "Oliver, you don't mean it," he said. "That
fellow in Society!"

"Sure," said Oliver, "if he wants to. Why not?"

"But his wife and his daughters!" exclaimed the other.

"Oh, that's not it--the family stays in Pittsburg. It's only himself
this time. All the same," Oliver added, after a pause, "I'd like to
wager you that if you were to meet Jim Gamble's four prize
daughters, you'd find it hard to tell them from the real thing.
They've been to a swell boarding-school, and they've had everything
that money can buy them. My God, but I'm tired of hearing about
their accomplishments!"

"But do you mean to tell me," the other protested, "that your
friends will stand for a man like that?"

"Some of them will. He's got barrels of money, you know. And he
understands the situation perfectly--he won't make many mistakes."

"But what in the world does he want?"

"Leave that to him."

"And you," demanded Montague; "you are getting money for this?"

Oliver smiled a long and inscrutable smile. "You don't imagine that
I'm in love with him, I trust. I thought you'd be interested to see
the game, that's why I introduced him."

"That's all very well," said the other. "But you have no right to
inflict such a man upon Alice."

"Oh, stuff!" said Oliver. "She'll meet him at Newport this summer,
anyway. How could I introduce him anywhere else, if I wasn't willing
to introduce him here? He won't hurt Alice. He gave her a good time
this evening, and I wager she'll like him before he gets through.
He's really a good-natured chap; the chief trouble with him is that
he gets confidential."

Montague relapsed into silence, and Oliver changed the subject. "It
seems too bad about Lucy," he said. "Is there nothing we can do
about it?"

"Nothing," said the other.

"She is simply ruining herself," said Oliver. "I've been trying to
get Reggie Mann to have her introduced to Mrs. Devon, but he says he
wouldn't dare to take the risk."

"No, I presume not," said Montague.

"It's a shame," said Oliver. "I thought Mrs. Billy Alden would ask
her to Newport this summer, but now I don't believe she'll have a
thing to do with her. Lucy will find she knows nobody except Stanley
Ryder and his crowd. She has simply thrown herself away."

Montague shrugged his shoulders. "That's Lucy's way," he said.

"I suppose she'll have a good time," added the other. "Ryder is
generous, at any rate."

"I hope so," said Montague.

"They say he's making barrels of money," said Oliver; then he added,
longingly, "My God, I wish I had a trust company to play with!"

"Why a trust company particularly?" asked the other.

"It's the easiest graft that's going," said Oliver. "It's some dodge
or other by which they evade the banking laws, and the money comes
rolling in in floods. You've noticed their advertisements, I
suppose?"

"I have noticed them," said Montague.

"He is adding something over a million a month, I hear."

"It sounds very attractive," said the other; and added, drily, "I
suppose Ryder feels as if he owned it all."

"He might just as well own it," was the reply. "If I were going into
Wall Street to make money, I'd rather have the control of fifty
millions than the absolute ownership of ten."

"By the way," Oliver remarked after a moment, "the Prentices have
asked Alice up to Newport. Alice seems to be quite taken with that
young chap, Curtiss."

"He comes around a good deal," said Montague. "He seems a very
decent fellow."

"No doubt," said the other. "But he hasn't enough money to take care
of a girl like Alice."

"Well," he replied, "that's a question for Alice to consider."






CHAPTER X





ONE day, a month or so later, Montague, to his great surprise,
received a letter from Stanley Ryder.

"Could you make it convenient to call at my office sometime this
afternoon?" it read. "I wish to talk over with you a business
proposition which I believe you will find of great advantage to
yourself."

"I suppose he wants to buy my Northern Mississippi stock," he said
to himself, as he called up Ryder on the 'phone, and made an
appointment.

It was the first time that he had ever been inside the building of
the Gotham Trust Company, and he gazed about him at the overwhelming
magnificence--huge gates of bronze and walls of exquisite marble.
Ryder's own office was elaborate and splendid, and he himself a
picture of aristocratic elegance.

He greeted Montague cordially, and talked for a few minutes about
the state of the market, and the business situation, in the meantime
twirling a pencil in his hand and watching his visitor narrowly. At
last he began, "Mr. Montague, I have for some time been working over
a plan which I think will interest you."

"I shall be very pleased to hear of it," said Montague.

"Of course, you know," said Ryder, "that I bought from Mrs. Taylor
her holdings in the Northern Mississippi Railroad. I bought them
because I was of the opinion that the road ought to be developed,
and I believed that I could induce someone to take the matter up. I
have found the right parties, I think, and the plans are now being
worked out."

"Indeed," said the other, with interest.

"The idea, Mr. Montague, is to extend the railroad according to the
old plan, with which you are familiar. Before we took the matter up,
we approached the holders of the remainder of the stock, most of
whom, I suppose, are known to you. We made them, through our agents,
a proposition to buy their stock at what we considered a fair price;
and we have purchased about five thousand shares additional. The
prices quoted on the balance were more than we cared to pay, in
consideration of the very great cost of the improvements we proposed
to undertake. Our idea is now to make a new proposition to these
other shareholders. The annual stockholders' meeting takes place
next month. At this meeting will be brought up the project for the
issue of twenty thousand additional shares, with the understanding
that as much of this new stock as is not taken by the present
shareholders is to go to us. As I assume that few of them will take
their allotments, that will give us control of the road; you can
understand, of course, that our syndicate would not undertake the
venture unless it could obtain control."

Montague nodded his assent to this.

"At this meeting," said Ryder, "we shall propose a ticket of our own
for the new board of directors. We are in hopes that as our
proposition will be in the interest of every stockholder, this
ticket will be elected. We believe that the road needs a new policy,
and a new management entirely; if a majority of the stockholders can
be brought to our point of view, we shall take control, and put in a
new president."

Ryder paused for a moment, to let this information sink into his
auditor's mind; then, fixing his gaze upon him narrowly, he
continued: "What I wished to see you about, Mr. Montague, was to
make you a proposal to assist us in putting through this project. We
should like you, in the first place, to act as our representative,
in consultation with our regular attorneys. We should like you to
interview privately the stockholders of the road, and explain to
them our projects, and vouch for our good intentions. If you can see
your way to undertake this work for us, we should be glad to place
you upon the proposed board of directors; and as soon as we have
matters in our hands, we should ask you to become president of the
road."

Montague gave an inward start; but practice had taught him to keep
from letting his surprise manifest itself very much. He sat for a
minute in thought.

"Mr. Ryder," he said, "I am a little surprised at such a proposition
from you, seeing that you know so little about me--"

"I know more than you suppose, Mr. Montague," said the other, with a
smile. "You may rest assured that I have not broached such a matter
to you without making inquiries, and satisfying myself that you were
the proper person."

"It is very pleasant to be told that," said Montague. "But I must
remind you, also, that I am not a railroad man, and have had no
experience whatever in such matters--"

"It is not necessary that you should be a railroad man," was the
answer. "One can hire talent of that kind at market prices. What we
wish is a man of careful and conservative temper, and, above all, a
man of thorough-going honesty; someone who will be capable of
winning the confidence of the stockholders, and of keeping it. It
seemed to us that you possessed these qualifications. Also, of
course, you have the advantage of being familiar with the
neighbourhood, and of knowing thoroughly the local conditions."

Montague thought for a while longer. "The offer is a very flattering
one," he said, "and I need hardly tell you that it interests me. But
before I could properly consider the matter, there is one thing I
should have to know--that is, who are the members of this
syndicate."

"Why would it be necessary to know that?" asked the other.

"Because I am to lend my reputation to their project, and I should
have to know the character of the men that I was dealing with."
Montague was gazing straight into the other's eyes.

"You will understand, of course," replied Ryder, "that in a matter
of this sort it is necessary to proceed with caution. We cannot
afford to talk about what we are going to do. We have enemies who
will do what they can to check us at every step."

"Whatever you tell me will, of course, be confidential," said
Montague.

"I understand that perfectly well," was the reply. "But I wished
first to get some idea of your attitude toward the project--whether
or not you would be at liberty to take up this work and to devote
yourself to it."

"I can see no reason why I should not," Montague answered.

"It seems to me," said Ryder, "that the proposition can be judged
largely upon its own merits. It is a proposition to put through an
important public improvement; a road which is in a broken-down and
practically bankrupt condition is to be taken up, and thoroughly
reorganised, and put upon its feet. It is to have a vigorous and
honest administration, a new and adequate equipment, and a new
source of traffic. The business of the Mississippi Steel Company, as
you doubtless know, is growing with extraordinary rapidity. All
this, it seems to me, is a work about the advisability of which
there can be no question."

"That is very true," said Montague, "and I will meet the persons who
are interested and talk out matters with them; and if their plans
are such as I can approve, I should be very glad to join with them,
and to do everything in my power to make a success of the
enterprise. As you doubtless know, I have five hundred shares of the
stock myself, and I should be glad to become a member of the
syndicate."

"That is what I had in mind to propose to you," said the other. "I
anticipate no difficulty in satisfying you--the project is largely
of my own originating, and my own reputation will be behind it. The
Gotham Trust Company will lend its credit to the enterprise so far
as possible."

Ryder said this with just a trifle of hauteur, and Montague felt
that perhaps he had spoken too strenuously. No one could sit in
Ryder's office and not be impressed by its atmosphere of
magnificence; after all, it was here, and its seventy or eighty
million dollars of deposits were real, and this serene and
aristocratic gentleman was the master of them. And what reason had
Montague for his hesitation, except the gossip of idle and cynical
Society people?

Whatever doubts he himself might have, he needed to reflect but a
moment to realise that his friends in Mississippi would not share
them. If he went back home with the name of Stanley Ryder and the
Gotham Trust Company to back him, he would come as a conqueror with
tidings of triumph, and all the old friends of the family would rush
to follow his suggestions.

Ryder waited awhile, perhaps to let these reflections sink in.
Finally he continued: "I presume, Mr. Montague, that you know
something about the Mississippi Steel Company. The steel situation
is a peculiar one. Prices are kept at an altogether artificial
level, and there is room for large profits to competitors of the
Trust. But those who go into the business commonly find themselves
unexpectedly handicapped. They cannot get the credit they want;
orders overwhelm them in floods, but Wall Street will not put up
money to help them. They find all kinds of powerful interests
arrayed against them; there are raids upon their securities in the
market, and mysterious rumours begin to circulate. They find suits
brought against them which tend to injure their credit. And
sometimes they will find important papers missing, important
witnesses sailing for Europe, and so on. Then their most efficient
employees will be bought up; their very bookkeepers and office-boys
will be bribed, and all the secrets of their business passed on to
their enemies. They will find that the railroads do not treat them
squarely; cars will be slow in coming, and all kinds of petty
annoyances will be practised. You know what the rebate is, and you
can imagine the part which that plays. In these and a hundred other
ways, the path of the independent steel manufacturer is made
difficult. And now, Mr. Montague, this is a project to extend a
railroad which will be of vast service to the chief competitor of
the Steel Trust. I believe that you are man of the world enough to
realise that this improvement would have been made long ago, if the
Steel Trust had not been able to prevent it. And now, the time has
come when that project is to be put through in spite of every
opposition that the Trust can bring; and I have come to you because
I believe that you are a man to be counted on in such a fight."

"I understand you," said Montague, quietly; "and you are right in
your supposition."

"Very well," said Ryder. "Then I will tell you that the syndicate of
which I speak is composed of myself and John S. Price, who has
recently acquired control of the Mississippi Steel Company. You will
find out without difficulty what Price's reputation is; he is the
one man in the country who has made any real headway against the
Trust. The business of the Mississippi Company has almost doubled in
the past year, and there is no limit to what it can do, except the
size of the plant and the ability of the railroads to handle its
product. This new plan would have been taken up through the Company,
but for the fact that the Company's capital and credit is involved
in elaborate extensions. Price has furnished some of the capital
personally, and I have raised the balance; and what we want now is
an honest man to whom we can entrust this most important project, a
man who will take the road in hand and put it on its feet, and make
it of some service in the community. You are the man we have
selected, and if the proposition appeals to you, why, we are ready
to do business with you without delay."

For a minute or two Montague was silent; then he said: "I appreciate
your confidence, Mr. Ryder, and what you say appeals to me. But the
matter is a very important one to me, as you can readily understand,
and so I will ask you to give me until to-morrow to make up my
mind."

"Very well," said Ryder.

Montague's first thought was of General Prentice. "Come to me any
time you need advice," the General had said; so Montague went down
to his office. "Do you know anything about John S. Price?" he asked.

"I don't know him very well personally," was the reply. "I know him
by reputation. He is a daring Wall Street operator, and he's been
very successful, I am told."

"Price began life as a cowboy, I understand," continued the General,
after a pause. "Then he went in for mines. Ten or fifteen years ago
we used to know him as a silver man. Several years ago there was a
report that he had been raiding Mississippi Steel, and had got
control. That was rather startling news, for everybody knew that the
Trust was after it. He seems to have fought them to a standstill."

"That sounds interesting," said Montague.

"Price was brought up in a rough school," said the General, with a
smile. "He has a tongue like a whip-lash. I remember once I attended
a creditors' meeting of the American Stove Company, which had got
into trouble, and Price started off from the word go. 'Mr.
Chairman,' he said, 'when I come into the office of an industrial
corporation, and see a stock ticker behind the president's chair
with the carpet worn threadbare in front of it, I know what's the
matter with that corporation without asking another word.'"

"What do you want to know about him for?" asked the General, after
he had got through laughing over this recollection.

"It's a case I'm concerned in," the other answered.

"I tell you who knows about him," said the General. "Harry Curtiss.
William E. Davenant has done law business for Price."

"Is that so?" said Montague. "Then probably I shall meet Harry."

"I can tell you a better person yet," said the other, after a
moment's thought. "Ask your friend Mrs. Alden; she knows Price
intimately, I believe."

So Montague sent up a note to Mrs. Billy, and the reply came, "Come
up to dinner. I am not going out." And so, late in the afternoon, he
was ensconced in a big leather armchair in Mrs. Billy's private
drawing-room, and listening to an account of the owner of the
Mississippi Steel Company.

"Johnny Price?" said the great lady. "Yes, I know him. It all
depends whether you are going to have him for a friend or an enemy.
His mother was Irish, and he is built after her. If he happens to
take a fancy to you, he'll die for you; and if you make him hate
you, you will hear a greater variety of epithets than you ever
supposed the language contained.--I first met him in Washington,"
Mrs. Billy went on, reminiscently; "that was fifteen years ago, when
my brother was in Congress. I think I told you once how Davy paid
forty thousand dollars for the nomination, and went to Congress. It
was the year of a Democratic landslide, and they could have elected
Reggie Mann if they had felt like it. I went to Washington to live
the next winter, and Price was there with a whole army of lobbyists,
fighting for free silver. That was before the craze, you know, when
silver was respectable; and Price was the Silver King. I saw the
inside of American government that winter, I can assure you."

"Tell me about it," said Montague.

"The Democratic party had been elected on a low tariff platform,"
said Mrs. Billy; "and it sold out bag and baggage to the
corporations. Money was as free as water--my brother could have got
his forty thousand back three times over. It was the Steel crowd
that bossed the job, you know--William Roberts used to come down
from Pittsburg every two or three days, and he had a private
telephone wire the rest of the time. I have always said it was the
Steel Trust that clamped the tariff swindle on the American people,
and that's held it there ever since."

"What did Price do with his silver mines?" asked Montague.

"He sold them," said she, "and just in the nick of time. He was on
the inside in the campaign of '96, and I remember one night he came
to dinner at our house and told us that the Republican party had
raised ten or fifteen million dollars to buy the election. 'That's
the end of silver,' he said, and he sold out that very month, and
he's been freelancing it in Wall Street ever since."

"Have you met him yet?" asked Mrs. Billy, after a pause.

"Not yet," he answered.

"He's a character," said she. "I've heard Davy tell about the first
time he struck New York--as a miner, with huge wads of greenbacks in
his pockets. He spent his money like a 'coal-oil Johnny,' as the
phrase is--a hundred-dollar bill for a shine, and that sort of
thing. And he'd go on the wildest debauches; you can have no idea of
it."

"Is he that kind of a man?" said Montague.

"He used to be," said the other. "But one day he had something the
matter with him, and he went to a doctor, and the doctor told him
something, I don't know what, and he shut down like a steel trap.
Now he never drinks a drop, and he lives on one meal a day and a cup
of coffee. But he still goes with the old crowd--I don't believe
there is a politician or a sporting-man in town that Johnny Price
does not know. He sits in their haunts and talks with them until all
sorts of hours in the morning, but I can never get him to come to my
dinner-parties. 'My people are human,' he will say; 'yours are
sawdust.' Sometime, if you want to see New York, just get Johnny
Price to take you about and introduce you to his bookmakers and
burglars!"

Montague meditated for a while over his friend's picture. "Somehow
or other," he said, "it doesn't sound much like the president of a
hundred-million-dollar corporation."

"That's all right," said Mrs. Billy, "but Price will be at his desk
bright and early the next morning, and every man in the office will
be there, too. And if you think he won't have his wits about him,
just you try to fool him on some deal, and see. Let me tell you a
little that I know about the fight he has made with the Mississippi
Steel Company." And she went on to tell. The upshot of her telling
was that Montague borrowed the use of her desk and wrote a note to
Stanley Ryder. "From my inquiries about John S. Price, I gather that
he makes steel. With the understanding that I am to make a railroad
and carry his steel, I have concluded to accept your proposition,
subject, of course, to a satisfactory arrangement as to terms."






CHAPTER XI





THE next morning Montague had an interview with John S. Price in his
Wall Street office, and was retained as counsel in connection with
the new reorganisation. He accepted the offer, and in the afternoon
he called by appointment at the law-offices of William E. Davenant.

The first person Montague met there was Harry Curtiss, who greeted
him with eagerness. "I was pleased to death when I heard that you
were in on this deal," said he; "we shall have some work to do
together."

About the table in the consultation room of Davenant's offices were
seated Ryder and Price, and Montague and Curtiss, and, finally,
William E. Davenant. Davenant was one of the half-dozen
highest-paid corporation lawyers in the Metropolis. He was a tall,
lean man, whose clothing hung upon him like rags upon a scare-crow.
One of his shoulders was a trifle higher than the other, and his
long neck invariably hung forward, so that his thin, nervous face
seemed always to be peering about. One had a sense of a pair of keen
eyes, behind which a restless brain was constantly plotting. Some
people rated Davenant as earning a quarter of a million a year, and
it was his boast that no one who made money according to plans which
he approved had ever been made to give any of it up.
                
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