"I see," said Montague, drily. "It's a beautiful scheme. And how
much do you get out of it?"

"He paid me ten thousand at the start," said Oliver; "and I am to
get five per cent of the first year's contract, whatever that may
be. Gamble says his bid won't be less than half a million, so you
see it was worth while!"

And Oliver chuckled to himself. "He's going home to-morrow," he
added. "So my job is done. I'll probably never see him again--until
his four prize daughters get ready for the market!"






CHAPTER XIV





Montague returned to New York and plunged into his work. The
election at which he was scheduled to become president of the
Northern Mississippi was not to come off for a month. Meantime there
was no lack of work for him to do. It would, of course, be necessary
for him to return to Mississippi to live, and he had to close up his
affairs in New York. Also he wished to fit himself for the work of
superintending a railroad. Through the courtesy of General Prentice,
he was introduced to the president of one of the great transcontinental
lines, and made a study of that official's office system. He went South
again to inspect the work of the surveyors, and to consult with the
engineers who had been selected for the work.

Price went ahead with his arrangements to take over the control of
the road, without paying any attention to the old management. He
sent for Montague one day, and introduced him to a Mr. Haskins, who
was to be elected vice-president of the road. Haskins, he said, had
formerly been general manager of the Tennessee Southern, and was a
practical railroad man. Montague was to rely upon him for all the
details of his work.

Haskins was a wiry, nervous little man, with a bad temper and a
sarcastic tongue; he worshipped the gospel of efficiency, and in the
consultations with him Montague got many curious lights upon the
management of railroads. He learned, for instance, that a
conspicuous item in the construction account was the money to be
used in paying local government boards for right of way through
towns and villages. Apparently no one even considered the
possibility of securing the privilege by any other methods. Montague
did not like the prospect, but he said nothing. Then again, the road
was to purchase its rails and other necessaries from the Mississippi
Steel Company, and apparently it was expected to pay a fancy price
for these; it was not to ask for any of the discounts which were
customary. Also Montague was troubled to learn that the secretary
and treasurer of the road were to receive liberal salaries, and that
no questions were to be asked, because they were relatives of Price.

All that he put up with; but matters came to a head about ten days
before the election, when one day Haskins came to his office with
the engineers' estimates, and with his own figures of the probable
cost of the extension. Most of the figures were much higher than
those which Montague had worked out for himself.

"We ought to do better on those contracts," he said, pointing to
some of the items.

"I dare say we might," said Haskins; "but those contracts are to go
to the Hill Manufacturing Company."

"I don't understand you," said Montague; "I thought that we were to
advertise for bids."

"Yes," replied Haskins, "but that company is to get the contracts,
all the same."

"You mean," asked Montague, "that we are not to give them to the
lowest bidder?"

"I'm afraid not," said the other.

"Has Price said anything to you to that effect?"

"He has."

"But I don't understand," said Montague; "what is this Hill
Manufacturing Company?"

And Haskins smiled. "It's a concern that Price has organised
himself," he said.

Montague stared in amazement. "Price himself!" he gasped.

"His nephew is president of the company," added the other.

"Is it a new company?" Montague asked.

"Organised especially for the purpose," smiled the other.

"And what does it manufacture?"

"It doesn't manufacture anything; it simply sells."

"In other words," said Montague, "it's a device whereby Mr. Price
proposes to rob the stockholders of the Northern Mississippi
Railroad?"

"You can phrase it that way if you choose," said Haskins, quietly;
"but I wouldn't advise you to let Price hear you."

"I thank you," responded Montague, and brought the interview to an
end.

He took a day to think the matter over. It was not his habit to act
upon impulse. He saw that the time had come for him to speak, but he
wished to be sure of his course of action before he began. He had
dinner at the Club that evening, and, seeing his friend Major
Venable ensconced in a big leather chair in the reading-room, he
went and sat down beside him.

"How do you do, Major?" he said. "I've got another case that I want
to ask you some questions about."

"Always at your service," said the Major.

"It has to do with a railroad," said Montague. "Did you ever hear of
such a thing as a railroad president organising a company to sell
supplies to his own road?"

The Major smiled grimly. "Yes, I have heard of it," he said.

"Is it common?" asked Montague.

"Not so common as you might suppose," answered the other. "A
railroad president is commonly not an important enough man to be
permitted to do it. If it happens to be a big road, and the
president is a power in it, why, then he may do it."

"I see," said Montague.

"That was Higgins's trick," said the Major. "Higgins used to go
around making speeches to Sunday schools; he was the kind of man
that the newspapers like to refer to as a model citizen and a leader
of enterprise. His brothers, and his brothers-in-law, and his
cousins, and all his family went into business in order to sell
things to his railroads. I heard of one story--it has never come
out, but it's very amusing. Every year the road would advertise its
contract for stationery. It used about a million dollars' worth, and
there'd be long and most elaborate specifications published--columns
and columns. But sandwiched away somewhere in the middle of a
paragraph was the provision that the paper must all bear a certain
watermark; and that watermark was patented by one of Higgins's
companies! It didn't even own so much as a mill--it sublet all the
contracts. When Higgins died, he left eighty million dollars; but
they juggled the records, and you read in all the newspapers that he
left 'a few millions.' That was in Philadelphia, where you can do
such things."

Montague sat thinking for a few moments. "But I can't see why they
should do it in this case," he said. "The men who are doing it own
nearly all of the stock of the road."

"What difference does that make?" asked the Major.

"Why, they are simply plundering their own property," said Montague.

"Tut!" was the reply. "What do they care about the value of the
property? They'll unload it before the public finds out; and in the
meantime they are probably manipulating the stock. That's the scheme
they're working with the street railroads over in Brooklyn, for
instance; the more irregular the dividends are, the more violently
the stock fluctuates, and the better they like it."

"But this is the case of a railroad that is being built," said
Montague; "and they are putting up the money to build it."

"Yes," said the Major, "of course; and then they are paying it back
to themselves by this dodge; and they'll still have the stock, and
whatever they can get for it will be profit. And if the State
Legislature comes along and asks any impertinent questions, they can
open their books and say: 'See, we have spent this much for
improvements. This is the cost of the road; and if you reduce our
freight-rates, you will cut off our dividends and confiscate our
property.'"

And the Major gazed at Montague with a mischievous twinkle in his
eye. "Besides," he said, "another thing. You say they are putting up
the money. Are you sure it's their own money? Commonly the greater
part of the cost of railroad building is paid by bonds, and they
work those bonds off on banks and insurance companies and trust
companies. Have you thought of that?"

"No, I hadn't," said Montague.

"I know very few men in Wall Street who use their own money," the
Major added. "Take the case of Wyman, for instance. Wyman's railroad
keeps a cash surplus of twenty or thirty millions, and Wyman uses
that in Wall Street. And when he has made his profit, he takes it
and salts it away in village improvement bonds all over the country.
Do you see?"

"I see," said Montague. "It's a bad game for the small stockholder."

"It's a bad game for the small man of any sort," said the Major.
"When I was young, I can remember, a man would save a little money
and put it into an enterprise of some sort, and whatever the profits
were, he would get his share of them. But now, you see, the big men
have got control, and they are greedier than they used to be. There
is nothing hurts them so much as to see the little fellow get any
share of the profits, and they've all sorts of schemes for doing him
out of it. I could take a week off and tell you about them. You are
manufacturing soap, we will say. You find there are too many soap
manufacturers and too much soap, and so you propose to combine, and
put your rivals out of business, and monopolise the soap market.
Your properties are already capitalised at twice what they cost you,
because you are naturally hopeful, and that is what you expected
they would earn; but now for this new combination you issue stock to
the amount of three times this imagined value. Then you fill the
street with rumours of the wonders of your soap combination, and all
the privileges and monopolies that you've got, and you unload your
stock on the public, we'll say at eighty. You may have sold all your
stock, but you've still got control of the corporation. The public
is helpless and unorganised, and your men are in. Then the Street
begins to hear disturbing rumours about the soap trust, and your
board of directors meet and declare that it is impossible to pay any
dividends. There is great indignation among the stockholders, and an
opposition is organised, but you set the clock an hour ahead, and
elect your ticket before the other fellow comes around. Or perhaps
the troubles have already knocked the stock down sufficiently low to
satisfy you, and you buy a majority of it back. Then the public
hears that a new interest has purchased the soap trust, and that a
new and honest administration is to be elected; and once more there
is hope for soap. You buy a few more plants, and issue more stocks
and bonds, and soap begins to boom, and you sell once more. You can
work that regularly every two or three years, for there is always a
new crop of investors, and nobody but a few people in Wall Street
can possibly keep track of what you are doing."

The Major paused for a while, and sat with a happy smile on his
countenance. "You see," he said, "there are floods and floods of
wealth, pouring into Wall Street from all over the country. It comes
to me like a vision. The crops are growing, the mines and the mills
and the factories are working, and here is all the money. People
don't like to take it and hide it up their chimneys--few people have
chimneys nowadays. They want to invest it; and so you prepare
investments for them. Take the street railroads here in New York,
for instance. What could be a safer investment than the street
railroads of the Metropolis? An absolute monopoly, and traffic
growing so fast that construction can't keep up with it. Profits are
sure. So people buy street railway stocks and bonds. In this case
it's the politicians who organise the construction companies; that's
their share, in return for the franchises. The insiders have a new
scheme--the best yet; it's like a Gatling gun against bows and
arrows. They organise a syndicate, and get the franchises for
nothing, and then sell them to the company for millions. They've
even sold franchises they didn't own, and railroad lines that hadn't
been built. You'll find some improvements charged for four or five
times over, and the improvements haven't yet been made. First and
last they have paid themselves about thirty million dollars. And, in
the meantime, the poor stockholder wonders why he doesn't get his
dividends!"

"That's the investment market," the Major continued after a pause;
"but of course the biggest reservoirs of wealth are the insurance
companies and the banks. It's there the real fortunes are made;
you'll find you lose the greater part of your profits, unless you've
got your own banks to take your bonds. I heard an amusing story the
other day of a man who was manufacturing electrical supplies. He
prides himself on being an honest business man, and having nothing
to do with Wall Street. His company wanted to extend its business,
and it issued a couple of hundred thousand dollars' worth of bonds,
and went to the Fidelity Insurance Company and offered them at
ninety. 'We aren't buying any bonds just at present,' said they,
'but suppose you try the National Trust Company.' So the man went
there, and they offered him eighty for the bonds. That was the best
he could do, and in the end he had to take it. And then the trust
company turns the bonds over to the insurance company at par. I
could name you half a dozen trust companies in New York that are
simply syndicates of insurance people for the working of that little
game."

The Major paused. "You see it?" he asked.

"Yes, I see," Montague replied.

"Is there a trust company by any chance back of this railroad you
are talking of?"

"There is," said Montague; and the Major shrugged his shoulders.

"There you have it," he said. "By and by they will find their first
bond issue inadequate to meet the cost of the proposed improvements.
The estimates of the engineers will be found too low, and there will
be another issue of bonds, and your president's company will get
another contract. And then the first thing you know, your president
will organise a manufacturing enterprise along the line of his road,
and the road will give him secret rebates, and practically carry his
goods free; or else he'll organise a private-car line, and make the
road pay for the privilege of hauling his cars. Or perhaps he's
already got some industrial concern, and is simply building the road
as a side issue."

The Major stopped. He saw that Montague was staring at him with an
expression of perplexity.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Good heavens, Major!" exclaimed the other. "Do you know what road
I've been talking about?"

And the Major sank back in his chair and went into a fit of
laughter. He laughed until he was purple in the face, and he could
hardly find breath to speak.

"I really thought you did!" Montague protested. "It's exactly the
situation."

"Oh, dear me!" said the Major, fishing for his pocket handkerchief
to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Dear me! It makes me think of our
district attorney's lemon story. Did you ever hear it?"

"No," said Montague, "I never did."

"It was one of the bright spots in a dreary reform campaign that we
had a few years ago. It seems that our young crusader was giving his
audience a few illustrations of how dishonest officials could make
money in this city.

"'Let us imagine a case,' he said. 'You are an inspector of fruit,
and there is a scarcity of lemons in New York. There are two ships
full of lemons on the way, and one ship gets in twenty-four hours
ahead. Now the law requires that the fruit be carefully inspected.
If you are too careful about it, it will take more than twenty-four
hours, and the owner of the cargo will lose a small fortune. So he
comes to you and offers you a thousand or two, and you don't stop to
open every crate of his lemons.'

"The district attorney told that story at a meeting, and the next
morning the newspapers published it. That afternoon he happened to
meet a fruit inspector, who was an old friend of his. 'Say, old
man,' said the inspector, 'who the devil told you about those
lemons?'"

The next morning Montague called at Price's office.

"Mr. Price," he said, "a matter has come up in my discussions with
Mr. Haskins about which I thought it necessary to consult you
immediately."

"What is it?" asked Price.

"Mr. Haskins informs me that it is understood that the Hill
Manufacturing Company is to be favoured in the matter of contracts."

Montague was watching Price narrowly, and he saw his jaw set grimly,
and a hostile look come upon his features. Price had been lounging
back in his chair; now, slowly, he straightened himself up, as if to
receive an attack.

"Well?" he asked.

"Is Mr. Haskins correct?" asked the other.

"He is correct."

"He also stated that you are interested in the company. Is that
true?"

"That is true."

"He also stated that the company did not manufacture, but simply
sold. Is that true?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Very well, Mr. Price," said Montague. "This is a matter about which
we must have an understanding without delay. In my preliminary talks
with you I was informed that it was your wish to find a man who
should run the road honestly. The situation which you have just
outlined to me does not seem to me consistent with that programme."

Montague was prepared for an angry response, but he saw the other
make an effort and control himself.

"You must realise, Mr. Montague," he said, "that you are not very
familiar with methods in the railroad world. This company of which
you speak possesses advantages; it can secure better terms--" Price
stopped.

"You mean that it can purchase goods more cheaply than the railroad
itself can?" demanded Montague.

"In some cases," began the other.

"Very well, then," he answered. "In any case where it can obtain
better terms, there can be no objection to its receiving the
contract. But that does not agree with what Mr. Haskins told me; he
gave me to understand that we were to prepare to pay a much higher
price because it would be necessary to give the contracts to the
Hill Manufacturing Company; and that was my reason for coming to see
you. I wish to have a distinct understanding with you upon this
point. While I am president of the Northern Mississippi Railroad,
everything that is purchased by the road will be purchased in fair
competition, and the concern which will give us the lowest price for
the quality of goods we need will receive our order. That is a
matter about which there must be left no possible room for
misunderstanding. I trust I have made myself clear?"

"You have made yourself clear," said Price; and so the interview
terminated.






CHAPTER XV





Montague went back to his work, but with a heart full of misgivings.
He would have liked to persuade himself that that was the end of the
episode, but he could not do it. He foresaw that his job as
president of a railroad would not be a sinecure.

With all his forebodings, however, he was unprepared for the
development which came the next day. Young Curtiss called him up,
early in the morning, and asked him to wait at his office. A few
minutes later he came in, with evident agitation upon his
countenance.

"Montague," he said, "I have something important to tell you. I
cannot leave you in ignorance about it. But before I begin, you must
understand one thing--that I am taking my future in my hands by
telling you. And you must promise me that you will never give the
slightest hint that I have spoken to you."

"I will promise," said Montague. "What is it?"

"You must not even let on that you know," added the other. "Price
would know that I told you."

"Oh, it's Price!" said Montague. "I'll promise to protect you. What
is it?"

"He called up Davenant yesterday afternoon, and told him that you
were not to be elected president of the road."

Montague gazed at him in dismay.

"He says you are to be dropped entirely," said the other. "Haskins
is to be president. Davenant had to tell me, because I am one of the
directors."

"So that's it," Montague whispered to himself.

"Do you know what's the matter?" asked Curtiss.

"Yes, I do," said Montague.

"What is it?"

"It's a long story--just some graft that I wouldn't stand for."

"Oh!" cried Curtiss, with sudden light. "Is it the Hill
Manufacturing Company?"

"It is," said Montague.

It was Curtiss's turn to stare in amazement. "My God!" he gasped.
"Do you mean that you have thrown up the sponge for that?"

"I haven't thrown up the sponge, by any means," was the answer. "But
that's why Price wants to get rid of me."

"But, man!" cried the other. "How perfectly absurd!"

Montague fixed his glance upon him.

"Would you advise me to stand for it?" he asked.

"But, my dear fellow!" said Curtiss. "I've got some stock in that
company myself."

Montague sat in silence--he could think of nothing to say after
that.

"What in the world do you suppose you have gone into?" protested the
other. "A charity enterprise?" Then he stopped, seeing the look of
pain upon his friend's face.

He put a hand upon his arm. "See here, old, man," he said, "this is
too bad, honestly. I understand how you feel, and it's a great
credit to you; but you are living in the world, and you have got to
be practical. You can't expect to take a railroad and run it as if
it were an orphan asylum. You can't expect to do business, if you're
going to have notions like that. It's really a shame, to give up a
work like this for such a reason."

Montague stiffened. "I assure you I haven't given up yet," he
replied grimly.

"But what are you going to do?" protested the other.

"I am going to fight," said he.

"Fight?" echoed Curtiss. "But, man, you are perfectly helpless!
Price and Ryder own the road, and they will do as they please with
it."

"You are one of the directors of the road," said Montague. "And you
know the situation. You know the pledges upon which the election of
the new board was secured. Will you vote for Haskins as president?"

"My God, Montague!" protested the other. "What a thing to ask of me!
You know perfectly well that I have no power in the road. All the
stock I own, Price gave me, and what can I do? Why, my whole career
would be ruined if I were to oppose him."

"In other words," said Montague, "you are a dummy. You are willing
to sell your name and your character for a block of stock. You take
a position of trust, and you betray it."

The other's face hardened. "Oh, well," he said, "if that's the way
you put it--"

"That's not the way I put it!" said Montague. "That is simply the
fact."

"But," cried the other, "don't you realise that they have a
majority, even without me?"

"Perhaps they have," said Montague; "but that is no reason why you
should not do what is right."

Curtiss arose. "There is nothing more to be said," he remarked. "I
am sorry you take it that way. I tried to do you a service."

"I appreciate that," said Montague, promptly. "For that I shall
always be obliged to you."

"In this fight that you propose to make," said the other, "you must
not forget that it is I who have brought you this information--"

"Do not trouble about that," said Montague; "I will protect you. No
one shall ever know that I had the information."

Montague spent a half an hour pacing up and down his office in
thought. Then he called his stenographer, and dictated a letter to
his cousin, Mr. Lee, and to each of the three other persons whom he
had approached in relation to their votes at the stockholders'
meeting. "Certain matters have developed," he wrote, "in connection
with the affairs of the Northern Mississippi Railroad, which make me
unwilling to accept the position of president. It is also my
intention to resign from the board of directors of the road, in
which I find myself powerless to prevent the things of which I
disapprove."

And then he went on to outline the plan which he intended to carry
out, explaining that he offered to those whom he had been the means
of influencing, the opportunity to go in with him upon equal terms.
He requested them to communicate their decisions by telegraph; and
two days later he had heard from them all, and was ready for
business.

He called up Stanley Ryder, and made an appointment for an
interview.

"Mr. Ryder," he said, "a few weeks ago you talked with me in this
office, and asked me to assist you in electing your ticket for the
Northern Mississippi Railroad. You said that you wished me to become
president of the road, and that the reason for the request was that
you wanted a man whom you could depend upon for efficient and honest
management. I accepted your offer in good faith; and I have made all
arrangements, and put in a great deal of hard work at the task of
fitting myself for the position. Now I have learned from Mr. Price's
own lips that he has organised a company for the purpose of
exploiting the road for his own private benefit. I told him that I
was unwilling to stand for anything of the sort. Since then I have
been thinking the matter over, and I have concluded that this
situation will make it impossible for me to cooperate with Mr.
Price. I have concluded, therefore, that it would be best for me to
resign my position as a member of the board of directors, and also
to withdraw my candidacy as president."

Ryder had avoided Montague's gaze; he sat staring in front of him,
and tapping nervously with a pencil upon his desk. It was some time
before he answered.

"Mr. Montague," he said, finally, "I am very sorry indeed to hear
your decision. But taking all the circumstances into consideration,
it seems to me that perhaps it is a wise one."

Again there was a pause.

"You must permit me to thank you for what you have done," Ryder
added. "And I trust that this unfortunate episode will not alter our
personal relationship."

"Thank you," said Montague, coldly.

He had waited to see what Ryder would say. He waited again, having
no mind to help him in his embarrassment.

"As I say," Ryder repeated, "I am very much obliged to you."

"I have no doubt of it," said Montague. "But I trust that you do not
expect to end our relationship in any such simple way as that."

He saw Ryder's expression change. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"There is a matter of grave importance which has to be settled
before we can part. As you know, I am personally the holder of five
hundred shares of Northern Mississippi stock; and to that extent I
am interested in the affairs of the road."

"Most certainly," said Ryder, quietly, "but I have nothing to do
with that. As a stockholder of the road, you look to the board of
directors."

"Besides being a stockholder myself," continued Montague, without
heeding this remark, "I have also to consider the interests of the
three persons whom I interviewed in your behalf. I was the means of
inducing these people to vote for the board which you named. I was
the means of inducing them to place themselves in the power of Mr.
Price and yourself. This being the case, I consider that my honour
is involved, and that I am responsible to them."

"What do you expect to do?" asked Ryder.

"I have written to them, informing them of my intention to withdraw.
I have not told them the circumstances, but have simply indicated
that I find myself powerless to prevent certain things to which I
object. I have told them the course I intend to take, and offered
them the opportunity to get out upon the same terms as myself. They
have accepted the offer, and to-morrow I should receive their stock
certificates, and their authorisation to dispose of them. I have my
own certificates here; and I have to say that I consider you are
under obligation to purchase this stock at the same price which you
paid for the new stock; namely, fifty dollars a share."

Ryder stared at him. "Mr. Montague, you amaze me!" he said.

"I am sorry for that," said Montague. His voice was hard, and there
was a grim look upon his face. He fixed his eyes upon Ryder.
"Nevertheless," he said, "it will be necessary for you to take the
stock."

"I am sorry to have to say it," said Ryder, "but this seems to me
impertinent."

"The total number of shares," said Montague, "is thirty-five
hundred, and the price of them is one hundred and seventy-five
thousand dollars."

The two gazed at each other. Ryder saw the look in Montague's eyes,
and he did not repeat his sneer.

"May I ask," he inquired, in a low voice, "what reason you have to
believe that I will comply with this extraordinary request?"

"I have a very good reason, as I believe you will perceive," said
Montague. "You and Mr. Price have purchased this railroad, and you
wish to plunder it. That is your privilege--apparently it is the
custom here in Wall Street to play tricks upon the investing public.
But you cannot play them upon me, because I know too much."

"May I know what you propose to do?" asked Ryder.

"You certainly may," said the other. "I propose to fight. Until you
have purchased my stock and the stock of my friends, I shall remain
a director in the railroad, and also a candidate for the position of
president. I shall make a contest at the next directors' meeting,
and if I fail in my purpose there, I shall carry the fight before
the public. I flatter myself that my reputation will count for
something in my old home; you will not be able to carry matters with
quite the same high hand in Mississippi as you are accustomed to in
New York. Also, I shall fight you in the courts. I don't happen to
know just what is the law in regard to the plundering of a
public-service corporation by its own directors, but I shall be very
much surprised if I cannot find some ground upon which to put a stop
to it. Also, as you know, I am in possession of facts regarding the
means whereby you got your new privileges from the State
Legislature--"

Ryder was glaring at him in rage. "Mr. Montague," he cried, "this is
blackmail!"

"You may call it that if you please," said the other. "I shall not
be afraid to face the charge, if you should see fit to bring it in
the courts."

Ryder started to reply, then caught his breath and gasped. When he
spoke again, he had mastered himself. "It seems to me a most
extraordinary thing," he said. "Surely, Mr. Montague, you cannot
feel at liberty to make public what you learned from Mr. Price and
myself while you were acting as our confidential adviser! Surely you
cannot have forgotten the pledge of secrecy which you gave me here
in this office!"

"I have not forgotten it," answered Montague. "And I have considered
the matter with the greatest care. I consider that it is you who
have violated a pledge. I believe that your violation was a
deliberate one--that you had intended it from the very beginning.
You assured me that you wished an honest administration of the road.
I don't believe that you ever did wish it; I believe that you had no
thought whatever except to use me as your tool to secure the control
of the railroad, without buying out the remaining stockholders.
Having accomplished that purpose, you are perfectly willing to have
me retire. In fact, I have made up my mind that you never intended
that I should be president--I have all along been suspicious about
it. But I can assure you that you have struck the wrong man; you
cannot play with me in any such manner. I have no idea whatever of
retiring from the railroad and permitting you and Mr. Price to
exploit it, and to deprive me of the value of my holdings--"

Montague was going on, but the other interrupted him quickly. "I
recognise the justice of what you say there, Mr. Montague," said he.
"So far as your own shares are concerned, you are entitled to be
bought out. I am sure that that is a fair basis--"

"On the contrary," said Montague, "it's a basis the suggestion of
which I take as an insult. I have been the means of placing other
people at your mercy. My reputation and my promises were used for
that purpose, and to whatever I am entitled, they are entitled
equally. There can be no possible settlement except the one which I
have offered you."

Ryder could think of nothing more to say. He sat staring at the
other. And Montague, who had no desire to prolong the interview,
arose abruptly.

"I do not expect you to decide this matter immediately," he said. "I
presume that you will wish to consult with Mr. Price. I have made
known my terms to you, and I have nothing more to say. Either you
will accept the terms, or I shall drop everything else, and prepare
to fight you at every step. I expect to receive the stock by this
evening's mail, and I am obliged to ask you to favour me with a
decision by to-morrow noon, so that we can close the matter up
without delay."

And with that he bowed formally and took his departure.

The next morning's mail brought him a letter from William E.
Davenant. "My dear Mr. Montague," it read. "It is reported to me
that you have thirty-five hundred shares of the stock of the
Northern Mississippi Railroad which you desire to sell at fifty
dollars a share. If you will bring the stock to my office to-day, I
shall be glad to purchase it."

Having received the letters from the South, Montague went
immediately. Davenant was formal; but Montague could catch a
humorous twinkle in his eye, which seemed to say, quite
confidentially, that he appreciated the joke.

"That ends the matter," he said, as he blotted the last of
Montague's signatures. "And I trust you will permit me to say, Mr.
Montague, that I consider you an exceedingly capable business man."

"I appreciate the compliment," replied Montague, drily.






CHAPTER XVI





Montague was now a gentleman of leisure, comparatively speaking. He
had two cases on his hands, but they did not occupy his time as had
the prospect of running a railroad. They were contingency cases, and
as they were against large corporations, Montague saw a lean year
ahead of him. He smiled bitterly to himself as he realised that the
only thing which had given him the courage to break with Price and
Ryder had been the money which he and his brother Oliver had won by
means of a Wall Street "tip."

He received a letter from Alice. "I am going to remain a couple of
weeks longer in Newport," she wrote. "Who do you think has invited
me--Laura Hegan. She has been perfectly lovely to me, and I go to
her place next week. You will be interested to know that I had a
long talk with her about you; I took occasion to tell her a few
things that she ought to know. She was very nice about it. I am
hoping that you will come up for another week end before I leave
here. Harry Curtiss is going to spend his vacation here; you might
come with him."

Montague smiled to himself as he read this letter. He did not go
with Curtiss. But the heat of the city was stifling, and the thought
of the surf and the country was alluring, and he went up by way of
the Sound one Friday night.

He was invited to dinner at the Hegans'. Jim Hegan was there
himself--for the first occasion in three years. Mrs. Hegan declared
that it was only because she had gone down to New York and fetched
him.

It was the first time that Montague had ever been with Hegan for any
length of time. He watched him with interest, for the man was a
fascinating problem to him. He was so calm and serene--always
courteous and friendly. But what was there behind the mask, Montague
wondered. For forty years this man had toiled and fought in the
arena of Wall Street, and with only one purpose and one thought in
life, so far as Montague knew--the piling up of money. Jim Hegan
indulged himself in none of the pleasures of rich men. He had no
hobbies, and he seldom went into company. In his busy times it was
said that he would use a dozen secretaries, and wear them all out.
He was a gigantic engine which drove all day and all night--a
machine for the making of money.

Montague did not care much for money himself, and he wondered about
it. What did the man want it for? What did he expect to accomplish
by it? What was the moral code, the outlook upon life, of a man who
gave all his time to heaping up money? What reason did he give to
himself for his own career? Some reason he must have, or he could
not be so calm and cheerful. Or could it be that he had no thoughts
about it at all? Was it simply a blind instinct with him? Was he an
animal whose nature it was to make money, and who was untroubled by
any scruples? This last idea seemed rather uncanny to Montague; he
found himself watching Jim Hegan with a kind of awe; thinking of him
as some terrible elemental force, blind and unconscious, like the
lightning or the tornado.

For Jim Hegan was one of the wreckers. His fortune had been made by
the methods which Major Venable had outlined, by buying aldermen and
legislatures and governors; by getting franchises for nothing and
selling them for millions; by organising huge swindles and unloading
them upon the public. And here he sat upon the veranda of his home,
in the twilight of an August evening, smoking a cigar and telling
about an orphan asylum he had founded!

He was cheerful and kindly; he was even benevolent. And could it be
that he had no idea of the trail of ruin and distress which he had
left behind him? Montague found himself possessed by a sudden desire
to penetrate beneath that reserve; to spring at the man and surprise
him with some sudden question; to get at the reality of him, to know
him as he was. This air of power and masterfulness, surely that must
be the mask that he wore. And how was he to himself? When he was
alone with his own conscience? Surely there must come doubt and
wonder, unhappiness and loneliness! Surely, then, the lives that he
had wrecked must come back to plague him! Surely the memories of
treachery and cruelty must make him wince!

And from Hegan, Montague's thoughts went to his daughter. She, too,
was serene and stately; Montague wondered what was in her mind. How
much did she know about her father's career? Surely she could not
have persuaded herself that all that she had heard was calumny.
There might be question about this offence or that, but of the great
broad facts there could be no question. And did she justify it and
excuse it; or was she, too, secretly unhappy? And was this the
reason for her pride, and for her bitter speeches? It was a
continual topic of chatter in Society, how Laura Hegan had withdrawn
herself from all of her mother's affairs, and was interesting
herself in work in the slums. Could it be that Nemesis had overtaken
Jim Hegan in the form of his daughter? That she was the conscience
by which he was to be tormented?

Jim Hegan never talked about his affairs. In all the time that
Montague spent with him during his two days at Newport, he gave just
one hint for the other to go upon. "Money?" he remarked, that
evening. "I don't care about money. Money is just chips to me."

Life was a game, and the chips were dollars! What he had played for
was power! And suddenly Montague seemed to see the career of this
man, unrolled before him like a panorama. He had begun life as an
office-boy; and above him were all the heights of business and
finance; and the ladder by which to scale them was money. There were
rivals with whom he fought; and the overcoming of these rivals had
occupied all his time and his thought. If he had bought
legislatures, it was because his rivals were trying to buy them. And
perhaps then he did not even know that he was a wrecker; perhaps he
would not have believed it if anyone had told him! He had travelled
all the long journey of his life, trampling out opposition and
crushing everything before him, nourishing in his heart the hope
that some day, when he had attained to mastery, when there were no
more rivals to oppose and thwart him--then he would be free to do
good. Then he would no longer have to be a wrecker!

And perhaps that was the meaning of his pitiful little effort--an
orphan asylum! It seemed to Montague that the gods must shake with
Olympian laughter when they contemplated the spectacle of Jim Hegan
and his orphan asylum: Jim Hegan, who could have filled a score of
orphan asylums with the children of the men whom he had driven to
ruin and suicide!

These thoughts were seething in Montague's mind, and they would not
let him rest. Perhaps it was just as well that he did not stay too
long that evening. After all, what was the use? Jim Hegan was what
circumstances had made him. Vain was the dream of peace and well
doing--there was always another rival! There was a new battle on
just at present, if one might believe the gossip of the Street;
Hegan and Wyman were at each other's throats. They would fight out
their quarrel, and there was no way to prevent them--even though
they pulled down the pillars of the nation about each other's heads.

As to just what these men were doing in their struggles, Montague
got new information every day. The next morning, while he was
sitting on the piazza of one of the hotels watching the people, he
recognised a familiar face, and greeted the young engineer,
Lieutenant Long, who came and sat down beside him.

"Well," said Montague, "have you heard anything from our friend
Gamble?"

"He's back in the bosom of his family again," said the young
officer. "He got tired of the splurge."

"Great fellow, Gamble," said Montague.

"I liked him very much," said the Lieutenant. "He's not beautiful to
look at, but his heart's in the right place."

Montague thought for a moment, then asked, "Did he ever send you
your oil specifications?"

"You bet he did!" said the other. "And say, they were great! The
Department will think I'm an expert."

"Indeed," said Montague.

"It was a precious lucky thing for me," said the officer. "I'd have
been in quite a predicament, you know."

He paused for a moment. "You cannot imagine," he said, "the position
that we naval officers are in. Do you know, I think some word must
have got out about that contract."

"You don't say so," said Montague, with interest.

"I do. By gad, I thought of writing to headquarters about it. I was
approached no less than three times!"

"Indeed!"

"Fancy," said the officer. "A young chap got himself introduced to
me by one of my friends here. He stuck by me the whole evening, and
afterwards, as we were strolling home, he opened up on me in this
fashion. He'd heard from a friend in Washington that I was one of
those who had been asked to write specifications for the oil
contracts of the Navy; and he had some friends who were interested
in oil, and who might be able to advise me. He hinted that it might
be a good thing for me. Just think of it!"

"I can imagine it was unpleasant."

"I tell you, it sets a man to thinking," said the Lieutenant. "You
know the men in our service are exposed to that sort of thing all
the time, and some of them are trying to live a good deal higher
than their incomes warrant. It's a thing that we've all got to look
out for; I can stand graft in politics and in business, but when it
comes to the Army and Navy--I tell you, that's where I'm ready to
fight."

Montague said nothing. He could think of nothing to say.

"Gamble said something about your being interested in a fight
against the Steel Trust," said the other. "Is that so?"

"It was so," replied Montague. "I'm out of it now."

"What we were saying made me think of the Steel Trust," said the
Lieutenant. "We get some glimpses of that concern in the Navy, you
know."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Montague.

"Ask any man in the service about it," said the Lieutenant. "It's an
old scar that we carry around in our souls--it won't heal. I mean
the armour-plate frauds."

"Sure enough!" said Montague. He carried a long list of indictments
against the steel kings in his mind; but he had forgotten this one.

"I know about it particularly," the other continued, "because my
father was on the board of investigation fifteen years ago. I am
disposed to be a little keen on the subject, because what he found
out at that time practically caused his death."

Montague darted a keen glance at the young officer, who sat gazing
ahead in sombre thought. "Fancy how a naval man feels," he said. "We
are told that our ships are going to the Pacific, and any hour the
safety of the nation may depend upon them! And they are covered with
rotten armour plate that was made by old Harrison, and sold to the
Government for four or five times what it cost. Take one case that I
know about--the Oregon. I've got a brother on board her to-day.
During the Spanish War the whole country was watching her and
praying for her. And I could go on board that battleship and put my
finger on the spot in her conning-tower that has a series of blow-
holes straight through the middle of it--holes that old Harrison had
drilled through and plugged up with an iron bar. If ever that plate
was struck by a shell, it would splinter like so much glass."

Montague listened, half dazed. "Can one see that?" he cried.

"See it? No!" said the officer. "It's all on the inside of the
plate, of course. When they got through with their dirty work, they
would treat the surface, and who would ever know the difference?"

"But then, how can YOU know it?" asked Montague.

"I?" said the other. "Because my father had laid before him the
history of that plate from the hour it was made until it was put in:
the original copies of the doctored shop records, and the affidavits
of the man who did the work. He had the same thing in a hundred
other cases. I know the man who has the papers at this day."

"You see," continued the Lieutenant, after a pause, "the
Government's specifications required that each plate should undergo
an elaborate set of treatments; and the shop records of each plate
were kept. But, of course, it cost enormous sums to get these
treatments right, and even then hundreds of the plates would be bad.
So when the shop records came up to the office, young Ingham and
Davidson would go over them and edit them and bring them up to
standard--that's the way those brilliant young fellows made all the
money that they are spending on chorus girls and actresses to-day.
They would have these shop records recopied, but they did not always
tear up the old ones, and somebody in the office hid them, and that
was how the Government got hold of the story."

"It sounds almost incredible!" exclaimed Montague.

"Take the story of plate H619, of the Oregon," said the Lieutenant.
"That was one of a whole group of plates, which was selected for the
ballistic tests at Indian Head. After it had been selected, it was
taken back into the company's shops at night, and secretly retreated
three times. And then of course it passed the tests, and the whole
group was passed with it!"

"What was done about it?" Montague asked.

"Nothing much was ever done about it," said the other. "The
Government could not afford to let the real facts get out. But, of
course, the insiders in the Navy knew it, and the memory will last
as long as the ships last. As I say, it killed my father."

"But weren't the men punished at all?"

"There was a Board appointed to try the case, and they awarded the
Government about six hundred thousand dollars' damages. There's a
man here in this hotel now who could tell you that story straight
from the inside." And the Lieutenant paused and looked about him.
Suddenly he stood up, and went to the railing and called to a man
who was passing on the other side of the street.

"Hello, Bates," he said, "come here."

"Oh! Bates of the Express!" said Montague.

"You know him, do you?" asked the Lieutenant. "Hello, Bates! Have
they put you on the Society notes?"

"I'm hunting interviews," replied the other. "How do you do, Mr.
Montague? Glad to see you again."

"Come up," said the Lieutenant, "and have a seat."

"I was talking to Mr. Montague about the armour-plate frauds," he
added, when the other had drawn up a chair. "I told him you knew the
story of the Government's investigation. Bates comes from Pittsburg,
you know."

"Yes, I know it," Montague replied.

"That was the first newspaper story I ever worked on," said Bates.
"Of course, the Pittsburg papers didn't print the facts, but I got
them all the same. And afterwards I came to know intimately a lawyer
in Pittsburg who had charge of a secret investigation; and every
time I read in the newspapers that old Harrison has given a new
library, it sets my blood to boiling all over again."

"I sometimes think," put in the other, "that if somebody could be
found to tell that story to the American people, they would rise up
and drive the old scoundrel out of the country."

"You could never bring it home to him," said Bates; "he's too
cunning for that. He has always turned his dirty work over to other
people. You remember during the big strike how he ran away and left
the job to William Roberts; and after it was all over, he came back
smiling."

"And then buying out the Government to keep himself from being
punished!" said the Lieutenant, savagely.

Montague turned and looked at him. "What is that?"

"That is the story that Bates's lawyer friend can tell," was the
reply. "The board of officers awarded six hundred thousand dollars'
damages to the Government; and the case was appealed to the
President of the United States, and he sold out the Navy!"

"Sold it out!" gasped Montague.

The officer shrugged his shoulders. "That's what I call it," he
said. "One day old Harrison startled the country by making a speech
in support of the President's policy of tariff reform; and the next
day the lawyer got word that the award was to be scaled down about
seventy-five per cent!"

"And then," added Bates, "William Roberts came down from Pittsburg,
and bought up the Democratic party in Congress; and so the country
got neither the damages nor the tariff reform. And then a few years
later old Harrison sold out to the Steel Trust, and got off with a
four-hundred-million-dollar mortgage on the American people!"

Bates sank back in his chair. "It's not a very pleasant topic for a
holiday afternoon," he said. "But I can't forget about it. It's this
kind of thing that does it, you know--this." And he waved his hand
about at the gay assemblage. "The women spending their money on
dresses and diamonds, and the men tearing the country to pieces to
get it. You'll hear people talk about it--they say these idle rich
harm nobody but themselves; but I tell you they spread a trail of
corruption wherever they go. Don't you believe that, Mr. Montague?"