JOHN STEELE now entered upon a period of his life which was most interesting and enjoyable. The numerous petty and annoying incidents which had heretofore been the cause of friction between himself and his numerous subordinates disappeared as the mist fades before the rising sun, and he found himself at the head of as willing and energetic a staff as any man could wish to have co-operate with him. With his chief even the most captious of men could have no fault to find, and Steele was far from being captious. T. Acton Blair seemed a changed man. No one could be more genial and considerate. He even drifted into the habit of calling his division superintendent “John.” Their business conferences were of an exceedingly friendly and amiable character, and yet John frequently censured himself when he detected deep down in his own nature remnants of distrust still lingering regarding his urbane superior. Once when Blair was gone rather longer than usual on a visit to New York, some inquiries that came through caused him to surmise that Blair was undermining him at headquarters, but on Blair’s return John felt rather ashamed of himself. That good man had indeed mentioned him to the powers that be, but the mention had been entirely to his advantage, with the result that John got ten dollars a week added to his salary, quite unsolicited. Blair almost apologised for his action, saying by way of excuse that the road was really getting so prosperous, and had been so free from disaster ever since Steele had joined it, that Rockervelt was pluming himself on having chosen the right man once again.
“By the way,” said Blair casually, “Mr. Rockervelt informed me he had read in the newspapers of your windfall. He asked me in what your money was invested, but I was unable to tell him.”
“Most of it is in railway stocks,” replied Steele.
“Ah, that would have interested him. Are any of the Rockervelt stocks in your safe deposit vault?”
John laughed.
“No, I don’t think I possess a single share, even in the Manateau Midland. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a transfer.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Blair, impartially. “Unless a man is a professional speculator he generally loses in transferring his stock from one interest to another. The broker usually gets a slice when this happens. Still, I am sure Mr. Rockervelt would be rather pleased to hear that you own stock in the Midland. He encourages that sort of thing, especially among his higher officials, imagining quite rightly, perhaps, that they are just a leetle more careful if they are part owners of the road they operate. I think it’s a very good idea, myself; still, at the present moment all the Rockervelt lines are booming, and I don’t know any investment I could more cordially recommend. Still, I’m prejudiced in the matter, so don’t let what I say influence you in the least. But if you should buy a block of Midland, for instance, I wish you’d let me know, so that when I am next in New York I can answer Mr. Rockervelt’s former question. It certainly wouldn’t do you any harm with Rockervelt, and there’s no better security on the market.”
The newspapers had made much of John Steele’s luck in falling heir to a considerable sum of money. The circumstances and unexpected nature of the legacy gave the item a semi-sensational value which was not neglected by the reporters, and even if the amount was in many cases exaggerated, the reputation of being a wealthy man revealed an entirely new world to the young superintendent—the world of social life. He was taken up by society with a warmth that was peculiarly gratifying to so modest a man as John Steele, and for this taking-up T. Acton Blair was largely responsible. On two or three occasions he invited John to dinner, where the young man met many delightful people. He now saw a side of Blair that had heretofore been entirely hidden from him, and, in spite of Rockervelt’s former warning, quite unsuspected. Blair as a host was one of the most charming of men; debonair and polite as a Frenchman; a very prince of good fellows. His house was a veritable palace, and when first John was ushered into the midst of its magnificence, it seemed scarcely credible that a young nobody like himself, but a few years past occupying a miserable position on the railway in the prairies, should actually have browbeaten and defeated the owner of all this wealth.
Blair evinced no rancour over this defeat, and Steele esteemed him a human nettle, dangerous only when timorously handled. Steele was too shrewd a man not to have recognised that he had discovered the weak spot in Blairs armour, which was a fixed aversion against being brought into conflict of any kind with the great Rockervelt, and this knowledge gave the young man assurance that his position on the staff of the gigantic corporation was more stable than he had hitherto regarded it. He now saw Blair as a genial, easy-going man, who always took the line of the least resistance, avoiding unnecessary trouble, which was wise in one-so well to do in the world’s goods, and as John himself was imbued with the most kindly feelings toward even his enemies, he had the gratification now of beholding his future extend before him like a well-ordered railway line: a clear right-of-way, and no signals against him.
One morning Mr. Blair entered the division superintendent’s room, accompanied by a man so much like himself that he might almost be taken for his younger brother.
“Mr. Steele,” cried the general manager, in his most amiable manner, “I wish to introduce you to Colonel Beck, an officer of the company, who keeps us all out of prison. Colonel Beck is Mr. Rockervelt’s chief legal adviser, who knows so much about the law that he can enable any one with money to evade it. Colonel Beck, this is Mr. John Steele, our youngest, and I believe I may add, our most capable division superintendent.”
The Colonel laughed pleasantly as he shook hands with the young man.
“Mr. Blair gives you a better character than he bestows upon me,” said the lawyer, with a good-natured twinkle of the eye. “If there is one characteristic more distinctive than another in the Rockervelt system, it is the unvarying respect it holds for the law.”
“Oh, that’s true enough,” rejoined Blair. “Why shouldn’t we respect the laws when the Colonel here makes most of them pertaining to railways?”
“Are you then a member of the Legislature?” asked John innocently.
Both of the fat men laughed, and Colonel Beck replied: “No, I am not so restricted as all that. A member of the Legislature possesses one vote. In the secret sanctity of this room, now that my friend Blair has given a hint in that direction, I may say I control many votes in the various Legislatures, and perhaps a few in the National Capitol as well. Still, that’s all among ourselves, Mr. Steele, and, getting to safer ground, I may add that I esteem this meeting a pleasure, for you are one of the few men I have heard Mr. Rockervelt speak highly of, and when Mr. Rockervelt praises a man I like to know that man and make him my friend if possible, for he is sure to go far. I think,” continued the Colonel, turning toward Blair, “that Mr. Rockervelt said the superintendent here was rather a considerable shareholder in the Midland.”
“Mr. Rockervelt was a trifle premature if he said that,” replied the general manager. “He spoke to me about it last time I was in New York, but I was unable at the time to give him definite information.”
“He is not in the least premature,” Steele intervened quietly. “Since our conversation a while ago, Mr. Blair, I have sold out all my Michigan Central Stock with some of my Northern Pacific, and have invested in Manateau Midland.”
“Ah, then you are one of us,” cried Beck, with enthusiasm; “I wish I had known you before you made the transfer, because I could have introduced you to brokers who would have done the job at the same rate they transact business for us, which I may add is a considerable shade lower than the general public pay. In future if you have any dealings on the market, I shall be glad to give you the benefit of both advice and introduction, which may result in your saving money.”
“I am an investor, rather than a speculator,” replied John, “and more anxious to get good securities than exorbitant dividends.”
“A very wise rule of conduct,” said the Colonel, nodding his head sagely several times; then, abruptly changing the subject, he once more expressed his pleasure at making the acquaintance of John Steele.
“I live part of the year in New York, and part in this city,” continued the Colonel, “for I am a native here. I arrived a week ago, and to-morrow night we give a little house-warming which I should be glad, Mr. Steele, if you would attend. Not a great crush, you know; a homely gathering rather than a fashionable function, but you shall meet very choice people there, eh, Blair? You’ll corroborate me in that, I’m sure?”
“Yes, Colonel,” responded Blair, “you are altogether too modest. Your dinners might well form a model to Lucullus, and I can assure Mr. Steele that he will meet people whom it may be a great advantage for him to know. Now, there’s a handsome, unsolicited testimonial.”
“No, by Jove, it was solicited, wasn’t it?” cried the genial Colonel, rubbing his hands together. “Well, Mr. Steele, may I depend on you? You will forgive the shortness of the notice, because of the shortness of our acquaintance.”
John Steele accepted the invitation with a cordiality equal to that with which it was tendered.
The prediction of both the stout gentlemen that John Steele would meet interesting people whom he should be glad to know was more than fulfilled, although his joy of new acquaintance was concentrated on one person.
Miss Sadie Beck was the most beautiful girl Steele had ever seen. Her face was sweet and innocent; her complexion of purest ivory tinted with dawn, the colours that go with hair of Californian gold, profuse and waving; the whole entrancing picture being lighted up by eyes as blue as a June sky.
The portals of the Beck mansion proved to be the gates of Eden, with Eve awaiting him within the Paradise. John, hitherto all unused to the society of women, found himself in the presence of Sadie Beck thrilled with emotions of which he knew nothing, and life quite unexpectedly presented possibilities that dazzled him.
Colonel Beck was a widower, and the only child of his only brother was mistress of his household. The Colonel had been too busy a man to think of marrying again after his wife had died, but circumstances solved the problem which his own immersion in great affairs prevented him from grappling with. His elder brother had been as unsuccessful in business as Colonel Beck was the reverse, and dying, he left his daughter to the care of her wealthy uncle, who had given her the most fashionable education money could procure, and then had installed her as the fascinating hostess of his home, a position which she amiably filled to the delight of his guests, and to the complacent satisfaction of himself.
The effect of this new-born friendship upon John Steele was instantaneous and permanent. All the counsels which Philip Manson had formerly tendered to him, urging a greater care in his personal appearance, and a stricter attention to the niceties of dress had made but ephemeral impression upon the object of Manson’s solicitations; but now, without a word being spoken, John became almost a modern dandy. The hairdresser’s constant attention worked wonders with his head covering, and the most expensive tailors found him an exacting customer.
John discovered suddenly that the onerous duties of division superintendent required a far wider outlook than he had so far bestowed upon them. He must know the law pertaining to his profession, and therefore he found frequent consultations necessary with the adviser to the corporation, and that urbane gentleman did his best to enlighten so diligent a student. Frequently, as was bound to happen with a man on whose shoulders rested a portion at least of the legal business pertaining to a wide-spreading railway system, Colonel Beck was occupied in his own study, compelled to refuse himself to any visitor, and great as should have been the disappointment of so earnest a pupil, John, nevertheless, could scarcely conceal his delight that the niece rather than the uncle should be his entertainer upon these occasions. The elderly lady who acted as chaperone in the Beck household was a placid nonentity, whom even a less strenuous person than John Steele might easily have ignored. She always contented herself with reading the latest book or magazine in a corner under the shaded electric light, while Sadie sat at the piano at the further end of the large room, and played most divinely certain soft, clinging, sentimental harmonies which might be carried on in conjunction with whispered conversation.
Sadie was a deservedly popular young lady, and often, to his chagrin, John found others in the drawing-room, claiming a share of her attention, and to do Miss Beck justice, she bestowed her favours with impartial charm upon all alike, although as time went on John Steele flattered himself that there was reserved for him a tone slightly more confidential than any of the others received. If the old Colonel saw what was going forward, almost, as one might say, before his eyes, he made no sign, and certainly treated the young division superintendent with an even cordiality that would have proved flattering to a man of much higher standing in the company’s service than was John Steele.
During this interesting period of his existence the young man lived in an intoxicating, rose-hued atmosphere. “Lucky in love, unlucky in war” was proving itself false in his instance. Never before had he been so successful in his business; never so popular with superiors and subordinates alike. Difficulties appeared only to vanish before the magic wave of his hand. His suggestions were adopted, his plans prospered, and perhaps most inspiring of all, his sagacity and his energy met unasked appreciation. His salary was raised to a hundred dollars a week, and Blair, when he announced the fact, referred almost apologetically to the ever-increasing prosperity of the road, due largely, he was good enough to say, to the efficiency of the division superintendent.
And yet there was one pebble in his shoe. With increase of means, curiously enough, there came the increased knowledge that intrinsically he was a poor man. The property which a few months before had seemed wealth, now appeared what Blair had actually suggested it to be, merely the nucleus around which an energetic man might accumulate a fortune. He was in the social class of the millionaires, but not in their financial class. No matter what dividends were paid on two or three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of railway stock, that income, added to his salary of five thousand a year, would never support a palace such as Blair lived in, or even a mansion similar to the one inhabited by Colonel Beck. Sadie, with the demeanour of a queen, needed also the income of a queen. John had no delusions on that score, and furthermore, being proud, he could not ask her to step down, but to step up. The germ that had remained dormant in his mind since his uncle’s death now developed into the belief that he might become as prosperous in speculation as he proved to be in all other walks in life. Often in after years he remembered the coincident conjunction of necessity, development and opportunity. Any two of the trinity would have been inactive without the presence of the third, but the trio travelling by different highways met at the crossroad, and then important things happened.
One eventful evening he dressed for dinner and dined early at the club; then he strolled up the avenue to the residence of Colonel Beck. Ushered into the drawingroom he found Sadie standing by the open piano, idly touching the upper keys with the tips of her fingers, standing there as if she were waiting for him, yet he knew she was waiting for some one else, for her opera cloak hung over the back of a chair beside her, and she was arrayed superbly for dinner, ball or reception. Never afterward could John give to himself any lucid description of what she wore, except that she looked like a radiant angel garbed in white. Her raiment was diaphanously, airily beautiful. Her gleaming, snowy shoulders, superb neck, and crown of golden hair made up a vision almost unearthly in its loveliness, which at once entranced and startled the young man. She turned toward him that superbly poised head, with the arched brows of surprise at his entrance mellowed by a seductive smile of a welcome not to be misunderstood. John himself was one of those well-set-up young men who look their best in evening dress, and as he came rapidly forward down the long room the girl could see the soul shining in his eyes, and the sight brought added colour to her own fair cheeks.
“Sadie,” he cried, taking both her hands in his, although she offered him only one, “if but a painter could place on canvas even a hundredth part of your adorable beauty to-night, his fame would ring down the ages.”
The girl laughed.
“Is it so striking as all that? Then I am sorry I can give you but fifteen minutes of it, for my uncle is taking me out to dinner, and man-like he is late, having just arrived home and gone upstairs to dress.”
“Fifteen minutes! What is it the poet says of fifteen minutes as compared with a cycle of Cathay? Fifteen minutes, Sadie, with you, is worth an eternity with any one else on earth. Why, bless my soul, the Declaration of Independence was signed in ten!”
Again the girl laughed, trying, not very strenuously, to disengage her hands.
“Do you wish me to sign a declaration of independence?” she asked.
“Yes, a declaration of independence from all the world except me.”
“In other words, a declaration of dependence on you rather than independence of the rest?” she corrected.
“Sadie, I’ve adored you ever since I met you. The picture on canvas that I spoke of is impossible, for there is not genius enough existent to do it justice. But there is a picture I ask you to look at,” and he swung her round almost rudely until she saw the reflection of two young people holding each other’s hands in the tall pier-glass.
“If you appreciate that Princess as she deserves, you will wonder at the conceit of the man standing beside her, that he dares to ask for the original.”
Sadie looked at her counterpart with a certain complacency, for doubtless she was a girl who had received many proposals, and was not to be swept from her feet even by one so impetuous as this. But that she was gratified by the young man’s earnestness, one needed but a glance at her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks to see. She turned from the glass to him.
“Is it the girl from New York or the gown from Paris you so warmly admire?”
“Answer me, Sadie, answer me,” he cried.
“Hush, hush,” she whispered, “I hear my uncle coming,” and now she struggled in earnest to release herself, but strenuously he held her firm.
“Answer yes or no.”
“Which word will release me most speedily?” she demanded.
“The first.”
“Then it must be yes. A fine masterful lover you are!” she cried with pretended indignation, as she whisked herself free from him.
It was a maid who came in, and taking up the white cloak, she adjusted it over the fair shoulders of her young mistress. A moment later the Colonel, rubicund and beaming, entered the drawing-room.
“Ah, Steele, is that you?” he saluted his visitor, shaking hands in the most friendly manner; “has my niece told you that we must enact the inhospitable savage tonight, and turn you forth in a cold and pitiless world?”
“Yes, Colonel,” laughed John, who was in such a state of joyous exaltation that he would have laughed, no matter what his host had said, “yes, and I must confess that it is like being turned from Paradise.”
The Colonel, smiling, allowed his eyes to pass from the exuberant young man to the downcast face of his niece, who seemed absorbed in the rearrangement of her white cloak. If the Colonel suspected anything, he said nothing that might give a hint of his surmise.
“Do you know that Mr. Rockervelt is in town?” he asked.
“No,” replied the young man, in some astonishment.
“He arrived here by the noon train,” continued the Colonel, “and all this afternoon we have been in close session at Blair’s house. Mr. Rockervelt spoke of you, and said he was sorry he could not see you this trip. We are dining with him to-night at Blair’s, but ladies being present, no business will be talked. Mr. Rockervelt leaves by special at ten o’clock.”
“Rather a short stay,” commented Steele.
“Short, but important,” replied the Colonel, as he led the way to the door.
John Steele had the advantage of escorting Miss Sadie to her carriage, and the felicity of pressing her hand before he made way for the Colonel to enter. He stood there for a moment, watching the receding back of the carriage, and then walked uncertainly down the avenue, treading not upon hard flagstones, but on clouds, his mind far aloft in the realms of romance, while his body bumped heedlessly against innocent passers-by, or those who hoped to be passers-by until he ran into them, interrupting their course and causing one stranger to remark that it was a pity to see a young man so drunk this early in the evening.
NEXT morning John Steele was startled to receive a rather peremptory message from Colonel Beck requesting him to call at once at his residence. The young man instantly obeyed, and mounted the steps with some trepidation, wondering whether Sadie had made a confidant of her uncle, and fearing that the uncle’s designs for his niece excluded a division superintendent from any discussion regarding her future. He was shown into the Colonel’s study, a large room on the first floor at the back of the house. The Colonel greeted him with what might be termed absent-minded friendliness. He was evidently perturbed about something, and after requesting his caller to sit down, himself paced up and down the room two or three times with a shade of perplexity on his brow. At last he threw himself into his office chair, and sitting back, interlocked his hands behind his head, and bent his looks upon the visitor he had summoned.
“I thought it best, Mr. Steele, to ask you to come here, as what I have to say is extremely private, and I wish to incur no interruptions, and to obviate the possibility of eavesdroppers.”
“Yes?” interpolated John, thinking this opening must certainly pertain to the episode of the previous evening in the room beneath.
“You said to me once,” went on the Colonel, “that you were an investor, not a speculator.”
“Yes,” repeated his listener.
“Has it ever occurred to you that a man may be both, or rather, that he may indulge in all the advantages of successful speculation without any of the risks that occur through playing in the open market?”
“If such a thing could be done,” said John with a smile, “it would be the very heaven of financiering.”
“Such a thing not only can be done, but it is done, every day. It is the outsider who speculates, and who must incur the uncertainties which accompany speculation. Those on the inside do not speculate, but operate in a security as absolute as that of a bank which receives a certain amount from a depositor. Now, I told you last night that although Mr. Rockervelt’s visit was brief, it was important. Its importance lies in this. The financial year now drawing to a close—the financial year, I mean, so far as the Rockervelt system is concerned—has been far and away the most prosperous in its existence. Manateau Midland stock to-day stands at 162 1/2, which is much under its intrinsic worth. But before I proceed with this exposition of values, I should like to ask you a question or two. Am I right in surmising that you owe your position entirely to Mr. Rockervelt?”
“Yes, to him through Philip Manson’s recommendation.”
“Ah, Philip Manson! I believe he is one of Mr. Rockervelt’s favourites, too. He was your predecessor, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Mr. Rockervelt took him to New York, and put me in his place here.”
“The chances are, then, that Mr. Manson will get his tip straight from Mr. Rockervelt himself, and, if he takes advantage of his knowledge, will doubtless operate through our brokers in New York. Well, the position is just this, Mr. Steele: Times have been good, and I tell you in confidence, what perhaps you have already guessed, that never has the Rockervelt system enjoyed a more prosperous year. The various roads, thanks to efficient men like yourself, have been remarkably free from disaster, and in truth during the twelve months now closing there has been no serious accident at all. In spite of our determination to let the actual state of affairs be known only to those on the inside, among whom Mr. Rockervelt, without saying it in so many words, evidently reckons yourself, the general public has arrived at some inkling of the facts. Stock which a month ago could be got for a hundred and fifty-two sells to-day at over a hundred and sixty. Still, the public has no real idea of how prosperous we have been, and I venture to predict that our next declaration of dividends, which is less than a month away now, will come as a complete surprise, and those who previously possessed inside knowledge will benefit accordingly. Of course, your duties heretofore have not brought you into contact with the finance of a huge corporation like the Rockervelt system, so I may tell you that after the annual meeting is held and a good dividend is declared the real owners of the railway, such as Mr. Rockervelt and his colleagues, sell their stock to the general public, buying it back during the ensuing year at a lower figure, in time for the next election of officers. We are now all loaded up with as much as we can carry, and it has been agreed that the time is ripe for the introduction of a very select few, like Manson, yourself and one or two more, into the inner circle. We take into our confidence only those who are actively engaged in the management and working of the various roads; men on whom we depend for our continued success. Now, our brokers have just been in communication with a man who wishes to sell stock to the amount of something like half a million, and I have asked them not to part with it or to seek a customer until I had communicated with you.”
“Colonel,” said the young man, his face aglow with excitement at the chance offered to him, “that is very kind of you, but you see, my money, or at least most of it, is already in Midland stock to the amount of between two hundred and three hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yes, I was aware of that, but our brokers will arrange everything for you. If, instead of buying the stock outright—and by the way, what did you pay for it?”
“I got it at a trifle less than a hundred and fifty.”
“Why, there you are. Suppose you had, instead of buying it outright, taken an option, say, on a million, you would already have made a hundred thousand dollars on the rise. Our brokers will arrange the financial details and you can secure the stock you now possess and the half million block as well, with ample margin to spare. Then, when you have taken your profits, you can do as you please: reinvest if you like, or wait until the inevitable reaction comes and buy in at a lower figure a much larger amount than you now possess.”
“All right, Colonel, I’ll do it. In fact, I leave the matter entirely in your hands to arrange with the brokers.”
“Thanks. I don’t attempt to conceal from you that it is a great opportunity, and I need not ask you to hold in strict confidence all I have told you, for we don’t care to see the price go much higher until after the dividend is declared. There’s just one request I must make which perhaps you will have no hesitation in granting. We should like to secure the voting proxy of this stock against the general meeting, to be used in the Rockervelt interest.”
“Oh, certainly,” cried John, delighted.
The Colonel selected some blank forms from the receptacle on his table before him, rapidly filled them in, and passed them across for John to sign, which he did almost without glancing at them, Colonel Beck in somewhat legal language pointing out the purport of each instrument.
“Well, that’s all right,” said the Colonel, as he gathered up the signed papers. “I’ll see the brokers at once, and get the deal put through.”
As John Steele came downstairs, he realised that these were business hours, but considered himself justified for the first time in his life in filching a few moments from them. He determined to see Sadie, and learn whether or not it was her wish he should at once communicate with her uncle on a matter which did not concern the buying or selling of stock.
Sadie received him in a morning room that was partly library. Her first utterance rang with a tone of imperiousness that was new to him.
“Why have you been shut up with my uncle so long in his study this morning?”
“Because he sent for me.”
“Why did he send for you?”
“To make some arrangements about the future.” Sadie’s blue eyes were scintillating with excitement or anger; the young man could not quite tell which. “What arrangements?” she demanded.
“Well, our conference was strictly confidential, and your uncle asked me not to mention the subject to any one.”
The girl almost stamped her foot.
“You know very well what I mean,” she said. “Did he send for you because of—because of—last night?”
“No, Sadie, he didn’t. To tell the truth, when I received his message this morning I thought perhaps he suspected something last night, and wished to question me, and I assure you I felt very uneasy meeting him before speaking first with you and learning your views upon the matter. However, his conversation was entirely about the railway business, and some new features of it, which arose through Mr. Rockervelt’s visit yesterday.”
“Then you said nothing to him about last evening.”
“No, Sadie, I could not take such a liberty without your permission.”
“Ah,” sighed the girl, with evident relief, “you did give me a fright when I learned you had gone to my uncle’s room so early in the morning, and when you stayed so long.”
“Don’t you want me to speak of our engagement, then?”
“There is no engagement. You were so boisterous standing there by the piano that I had to say ‘Yes’ to release myself, otherwise my uncle would have come in upon a fine tableau.”
“I hope you are not going back upon that ‘Yes,’” said the young man earnestly.
For a few moments the girl did not answer. She seemed in an uncertain temper that morning, and rather inclined to pout, yet to the ardent young man she appeared more entrancing than ever.
“I am going neither back nor forward,” she said at last. “I desire to remain just where I am. I am not sure of myself. I think you took an unfair advantage of my dilemma last evening with your obstreperousness; and there are many reasons why I should not wish to be bound by the answer you forced me to give.”
“You shall not be bound,” replied John very seriously; “everything must be exactly as you wish it to be. You, doubtless, have been and will be sought by lovers richer than I, but you will never find one more devoted to you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of riches,” explained the girl petulantly; then after a pause she added: “though I may as well confess I am quite unsuited to be a poor man’s wife. The cottage with roses clambering over it looks very beautiful in a painting, and a description of it reads well in a magazine story, but when I was a small girl, I endured the reality of poverty and I don’t want any more of it. I suppose you think that very sordid?”
“No,” rejoined John Steele gravely, “I think it very sensible.”
“I should loathe a house in the suburbs with two servants, or its alternative, the middle-class hotel or superior boarding-house down town. My education and my bringing-up haven’t fitted me for these delights.”
“You incur no danger from a cheap house in the suburbs or its alternative. I am at present earning five thousand dollars a year, and am only on the threshold of my profession. I own absolute cash-producing property to the extent of about three hundred thousand dollars, and if you will consent to our engagement being made public when I am a millionaire, I guarantee that the announcement will take place before two months are past.” Up to this point the girl’s eyes had been fixed on the floor; now she raised them level with his, and he saw that all resentment had fled from them, leaving in its stead a sparkle of mischief and merriment.
“Why,” she laughed, “one would think that the financial conversation upstairs with the uncle was resumed in the morning room with the niece. I suppose these monetary revelations arise because of the business suit you are wearing in this hard morning light; but I think I like you much better, John, in evening clothes, under the radiance of shaded lamps. I am sure neither of us thought of money last night, and I certainly did not this morning until you began talking about it.”
She held her hand out to him, and he took it with enthusiasm.
“I do not wish anything said of our engagement at the present moment,” she went on. “There is nothing very terrible about such a proviso, is there? I have many friends in this city, and I don’t wish them all set gossipping, as will be the case if any announcement is made. We will let the ‘yes’ stand where it did, but you must give me a little time quietly to learn how my uncle may regard the news. You will come here, I hope, just as if nothing had happened, and if I receive you as crossly as I did just now, I give you leave to scold me. Is that a bargain?” she concluded brightly, smiling up at him, and giving him freely what he had taken the night before, her two hands in his.
“It is a bargain,” said John with content, drawing her suddenly toward him and kissing her, an act to which she submitted half with reluctance, half with acquiescence.
And so for a month everything went on as before, except that John was perhaps the most frequent visitor at the Beck household. He thought more of his love than of his money, as it is right and proper a young man should, for youth is the time of optimism, and everything was progressing smoothly.
A week before the general meeting Blair departed for New York, and before he left he appointed Steele acting general manager pro tem., which had the effect of making John the busiest man in the city, giving him little opportunity to think of either femininity or finance. Colonel Beck accompanied Blair to the metropolis, but had returned the day before the annual meeting was held. There were large interests in the West, he said, which would require his unremitting attention during the next few days, and this proved a true prediction.
On the evening of the day of the general meeting Steele left his office late, intending to snatch a hasty meal at the club and return to his work. He found the streets in unusual commotion; newsboys were rushing frantically here and there yelling at the top of their voices: “Great panic in New York.”
Steele bought a paper, and the glance he bestowed upon the black headlines rooted him to the pavement.
“Financial Thunderbolt,” he read. “No dividend for Rockervelt shareholders. Panic on the Stock Exchange this afternoon. Heavy drop in all securities. Rockervelt stocks leading the rout. Are we on the verge of a crisis? Fall of twenty-eight points in Rockervelt holdings when the Stock Exchange closed. Fears for tomorrow.”
“Twenty-eight points,” muttered the grave young man to himself. “That means a loss to me of nearly two hundred thousand dollars!”
Without reading further particulars, Steele thrust the paper into his pocket, and continued his journey to the club. His mind was in a whirl, but clenching his teeth, he strove to rearrange his thoughts and settle upon a course of action. It was too late that day to do anything. If he had only known of this disaster as soon as it occurred; if he had had word as early as was possible after the passing of the dividend, he might have got out without a loss of more than thirty or forty thousand dollars perhaps. What an innocent lamb he had been; almost begging to be shorn. Not a single precaution had he taken. It needed but a word to Philip Manson in New York, and a telegram would have apprised him at once of what had happened in the general meeting; yet here he had remained buried up to the eyes in the business of this corporation, which had evidently been engaged in a gigantic game of thimble-rigging; working like a fool while all the world knew of the topical item except himself. The reason of this complete absorption in duty suddenly struck him like a blow in the face, and he stood still at the thought of it. Blair had put upon his shoulders the burden of general manager without relieving him of the task of division superintendent, and he had been struggling to fulfil adequately the obligations of both offices. Had Blair done this for a purpose? One suspicion led to another. Might not the whole net in which he found himself enmeshed be of the general manager’s weaving? If so, Blair had found him an easy victim.
His meal at the club, instead of being snatched as he had intended, was a most leisurely one, but his appetite was gone and he ate little. He did not go back to his office, but walked up the avenue to Colonel Beck’s house, only to find that the Colonel and his niece had gone out for the evening.
John Steele was at his broker’s office the moment it was opened. A crowd was collected before the place, but only those were allowed in who had dealings with the firm.
“I was just about to telegraph you,” said the junior partner, who received Steele in his private office. “I rather expected you in yesterday, but as we had no instructions we held on.”
“Why didn’t you telegraph me yesterday?”
“Why?” asked the broker, justly indignant at such a childish suggestion. “You left no instructions, and as every ticker in town announced the news, I did not think it necessary. The fact is that as soon as the announcement came we were so busy here that no one in the office had time to turn round. The crash was so unsuspected we were not prepared.”
“It seems to me,” said John bitterly, “that a firm like yours, intimately connected with the Rockervelt interests, should have had some idea of what was coming.”
“Oh, well, so far as that goes,” said the junior partner airily, “I might be equally justified in saying that an official like yourself, holding an important position on the Rockervelt staff, would have been much more likely to get the straight tip than we.”
“Oh, I got a tip all right enough,” replied John, grimly, “but it seems to have been a crooked rather than a straight one.”
“Ah, well,” said the broker, with the easy nonchalance of one whose withers are unwrung, “these mistakes happen now and then. The outlook in New York this morning is very-gloomy. Of course things may rally before noon, but we can’t count on that. I was going to telegraph you that we must have margin put up; not less than twenty-one thousand dollars, and even that will only give you three points lee-way when your present margin is absorbed.”
“Do you think twenty-one thousand would save me?”
“Who can tell?” answered the junior partner with a shrug of his shoulders. “It all depends. If you can inform me what Mr. Rockervelt will do during the next two hours, I can predict what will happen with the stock. I expected he would support it, but apparently he is letting it go smash.”
“Why shouldn’t he? He is the cause of it all,” said John. “I know the road earned a dividend, even if Rockervelt didn’t declare one.”
“Well, there you are,” said the broker. “The public always loses its head at a time like this. Rockervelt stocks are now away below their intrinsic value, but that fact won’t prevent their going lower if the panic continues.”
“What would you advise me to do?” asked Steele.
“I don’t give advice; I take instructions. We’ll hang on just as long as we can, but if the decline continues, we must sell your block before it gets below the margin.”
“I hold three times twenty-one thousand, face value in Northern Pacific Stock. Can you tell me if there is any chance of raising twenty-one thousand dollars on it?”
The broker shook his head.
“You might have done that two days ago, but now? with gilt-edged stock like Rockervelt’s on the toboggan how can you expect to raise a loan on Northern Pacifics? I don’t believe any one would venture a thousand dollars on that security to-day. Those who have money are sitting on it, waiting for the clouds to roll by. This may be merely a little financial flutter and a quick recovery, or it may prove the beginning of a commercial crisis that will last for two or three years.”
“Yet these devils in New York heedlessly run the whole country into such a risk to make a few more dirty dollars for themselves, who are already millionaires.”
The veins in Steele’s forehead were swelling, and his hair bristled with indignation, but the broker merely threw back his head and laughed.
“Satan reproving sin!” he cried. “What were you doing, a man with a quarter of a million or so, but trying to add a few dollars, dirty or clean, to that amount.”
“True, true,” said John, calming down suddenly, “you are in the right. Well, good morning; I see there’s a host waiting for you, and as you have no advice to give, and no money to lend, I’ll see what I can do outside.” He walked to the nearest telegraph station, and sent a message to Philip Manson in New York:
“Can you telegraph me twenty-one thousand dollars? Will forward as security sixty thousand par-value Northern Pacific.”
This handed over, he returned to his office, opened the safe, took out the Northern Pacific securities, and placed them on his desk. For an hour and a half he was busy giving directions to this man or that, then a telegram was brought in to him from Philip Manson.
“Very sorry, but have lost everything I possessed in yesterday’s panic.”
“Poor old Manson,” mused Steele sadly. “So he was caught in the trap too. Well, after all, when an old and experienced man is nipped, there is some excuse for myself.” He thrust the securities in his pocket, put on his hat, and paid a visit to Colonel Beck. That benign gentleman received him with beaming effusion.
“Ah, Mr. Steele, I am so sorry we were out when you called last evening. It was a little dinner to which I had accepted an invitation more than a week ago, little dreaming that such a financial storm was about to break over our heads. Sit down, Steele, sit down. What can I do for you?”
“You can lend me twenty-one thousand dollars.”
The smile faded from the cherubic face of the Colonel, and a shade of melancholy took its place.
“You mean, then, that your margins have all but disappeared?”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
“Would twenty-one thousand save you?”
“You can tell that better than I, Colonel, being more in the confidence of the Rockervelts. I offer you as security nearly three times the amount in Northern Pacific stock.”
The Colonel slowly shook his head.
“I shouldn’t ask for security at all, Mr. Steele, if I had the ready money, but this unexpected crisis has tied up all the funds at my disposal.”
“Unexpected! Do you mean to tell me you did not know the dividend was to be passed?”
Colonel Beck placed the tips of his fingers together, and gazed across the apex before him at the young man, more in sorrow than in anger.
“My dear Mr. Steele, I have no doubt you heard the news before I did. As I told you in this very room, large dividends had been earned, and of course I came to the conclusion that they would be declared. Then you say, quite justly, if a dividend was earned, why was it not declared? The reason is a most convincing one, and I am expecting every moment Mr. Rockervelt to give it to the public. When he does so, people will learn how senseless is the panic which has ensued over what is, after all, an exceedingly simple matter; one of those exigencies of business which are constantly occurring.
“While I was in New York I was consulted about the case; indeed the main lines of the deal were settled, although the method of payment was left open. You may be aware that Mr. Rockervelt is aiming at the Pacific coast, and gradually extending his lines to the west. Very well. About a week ago he got a private offer of the L. S. & D. Road, for which at the present moment he has no use, but which in a few years’ time, when he makes certain connections, will be a most valuable link in his chain to California. Now, Mr. Rockervelt seeks advice, and listens to it, but no man can tell whether he will follow that advice or not. The information I have received from New York is to the effect that at the last moment Mr. Rockervelt made up his mind that instead of declaring a large dividend, as he might have done, he would put the amount in the L. S. & D. Road. Of course, he could have explained this at the meeting, but he did not do so, and there I think he was wrong. However, as you know, he works along his own lines, and perhaps his announcement might have raised difficulties before all the papers were signed. I imagine this is why he has made no statement. The truth is that just after the meeting he left in his private car for the West, intending to go over the L. S. & D. Road, but I am sure that when he realises the effect of his reticence on the business affairs of the country, he will be prompt to make his explanation, and save any further depreciation of securities. His manifesto will doubtless appear in to-night’s papers, or in the morning sheets at the latest.”
“I’m afraid that won’t help me, Colonel Beck, and as you are yourself unable to accommodate me with the money for a few days, I suppose it would be useless to ask if any of your wealthy friends would accept my securities and hand me over the money.”
“I fear not, I fear not,” said the Colonel, with an air of inexpressible sadness. “At times like these every one pulls tight the purse-strings. If I went to the richest friend I have and asked to be accommodated with a loan, telling him the true story of the passing of this dividend, I am very sure I should not be believed.” John rose to his feet, a wry smile on his lips.
“It is rather deplorable, Colonel Beck,” he said quietly, “that people should so distrust their fellow men, and even though you say so, I find it impossible to believe that any one should suspect you of setting a trap.”
“Ah, well,” sighed the Colonel, “we must take life as we find it, you know, and not as we would have it. Time sets all things right, and I am old enough to be philosophical. Must you go? Well, drop in when you can, and if the financial tension relaxes, I may be able to be of some assistance.”
John went downstairs and, as on a former occasion, expressing a wish to see the young lady of the house, was conducted into the morning room, where she greeted him, as it seemed to his now over-sensitive nerves, somewhat distantly.
“Sadie,” he said, “I told you in this room that I was worth three hundred thousand dollars; that I was earning a salary of five thousand dollars a year, and that within two months I expected to be a millionaire. I must now inform you that all my money has been swept away, that I am about to resign my five thousand a year, and that I shall probably never be more of a millionaire than I am at the present moment.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the girl, with the breathless haste of one who is confronted by a condition, and does not know the exact words that fit it.
“I am sorry too,” said John simply.
He stood there for a full minute, and there was silence between them, until at last the girl appeared to force herself to speak.
“Still, you are young, Mr. Steele, and this is a country of great opportunities, is it not?”
“I think it is,” said John, with a grin; “yes, it is generally understood to be a land of excellent chances, and, as you say, I am young, much younger than when I was in this room last time. I knew as a general proposition I was young, but I had no idea I was the infant I have found myself to be.”
As he spoke the girl drew herself up, and tried to assume an air of haughty indignation.
“If you are laughing at me,” she said, “I think it is very unkind.”
“I give you my word, Miss Beck, that I do not feel much like laughing, and least of all at you. I merely came in to bid you good-bye.”
He held out his hand, and she took it gingerly, at arm’s length, as it were.
“Good-bye,” she said, “and I wish you luck.”
“Thank you,” replied John simply.