Never Victorious, Never Defeated

by Taylor Caldwell

  Rufus deWitt was an entirely different matter. His great muscular body had lost its heroic outlines, had softened to a mass of round suet. His thighs, in the black broadcloth, bulged tightly and thickly; his big belly swelled out the maroon-brocaded waistcoat, upon which hung a sparkling gold watch chain. His shoulders were mounds; he had lost his neck, and so his large rectangular head sat on his shoulders without division, with hardly a glimpse of white linen and broad black-satin cravat fastened with a diamond pin. His face was pulpy and of too bright a color, some of the protuberances accentuated by purplish-crimson wrinkles; his chin rested on the cravat, a swelling fold with a somewhat oily sheen. His hazel eyes nested in hollows of fat, sparkling like topazes. His mouth was too smooth and red, and gave a sensual look to his face. But his smile was genial, and the big white teeth gleamed between his lips in the friendliest manner possible. Diamonds glittered on the pudgy fingers, which sprouted red hairs. He might have lost the violent hue of his hair, but the hair itself remained luxuriant in spite of it grayness, and was carefully arranged. He emanated a bulky vulgarity, an animal vitality, and a limitless and unfastidious appetite. The fact that he was here today excited Allan; the occasion must be important.

  Rufus beamed at the shabby and youthful visitor, and extended his jeweled hand in a gesture of democratic cordiality. Allan deliberately looked at the hand, bowed stiffly, and seated himself. The two gentlemen were immediately aware, then, of a kind of man they had certainly not expected, and for the first time the gelid eyes of Mr. Angers focused on Allan, and tightened at the edges. As for Rufus, he withdrew the cigar from his mouth and studied Allan; a peculiar expression appeared on his face, something akin to surprised recognition.

  Mr. Angers spoke with a low languidness: “Mr. deWitt was passing through Scranton today and stopped in to see us. He became interested in your patent.”

  Allan smiled, raised his thick dark brows politely, inclined his head again in Rufus’s alerted direction, and waited.

  “I am glad you thought of us,” said Rufus. His voice had acquired a round unctuousness with the years. “We are always grateful when our employees remember the company, and show their loyalty.”

  “Loyalty,” said Allan gently, “has nothing to do with it. I am not one of your regular employees, Mr. deWitt. I sometimes assist my father, who is an engineer on your road, by firing for him when one of his firemen is ill. I am only a casual employee, if you can call it that. I,” added Alan, “do not do coupling at all.”

  The swiftest glance passed between Rufus and Thomas Angers. Rufus then settled in his chair more comfortably, but his eyes narrowed.

  “I came to the Interstate Iron & Steel Company for one reason: I believe you are more prepared to manufacture my automatic coupler than any other company.” Allan crossed his lean legs and smiled at each man in turn.

  “I am glad you thought of us first,” said Mr. Angers ironically.

  Allan was not diminished by the tone of the other man. “I think you will be even more pleased, later, Mr. Angers.” He became thoughtful. “Naturally, I am not a patient fellow. I came today for your decision. If you decide against making my coupler, I shall at once approach other companies.” He paused. “In fact, I have already approached two others, who are very interested. They, too, have received copies of my patent.”

  Rufus smiled disarmingly. “You are the son of one of our best and most valued engineers, Mr.—Marshall. I have often ridden with Tim. I should like to believe that old Tim influenced you, in a way.”

  “He did not.” The three words were cold and flat. “No one influences me. You gentlemen understand that I am reading law in Mr. Peale’s office. Law is my first objective; I have become quite an authority on labor laws. But I am not averse to making a fortune while”—and Allan let his pause become significant—“I study those labor laws to discover how best I can help the workers to whose class my father belongs.”

  There was a silence in the room, while the fire pulsed on the hearth and the smoke of Rufus’s cigar curled upward. Mr. Angers began to study the drawings on his desk. Rufus sat very still. An impudent, impoverished, and probably hungry young devil, full of arrogance and impertinence, he thought. But he is also fearless, and in some way he is a threat.

  So Rufus said pleasantly, “I never underestimate my fellow men. I have no doubt that you’ll make an excellent lawyer, young man. Labor laws? I am interested in them very much.”

  “As an employer, you should naturally be interested,” said Allan, with an extreme courtesy. He withdrew from his pocket a single sheet of paper, and now he looked only at Rufus. “I have here a decision made only two or three years ago, in the little town of Flintsburg. An obscure decision, but it can be—shall we say—potent, sir? It took me a long time to find it, but I eventually did, though I doubt most lawyers know of it, and even if a few know they are careful not to disinter it.”

  Mr. Angers raised his head and regarded Allan with icy affront. But Rufus nodded agreeably and held out his hand for the paper. Allan gave it to him. Rufus smiled as he read, but the pulpy features became a trifle fixed toward the end. In silence, he then handed the paper to Mr. Angers, who read it carefully. Now a change came over Mr. Angers. His slim and elegant face stiffened. He put the paper on his desk, and one slender hand covered it as if to hide it. He waited for Rufus to speak.

  Rufus gazed at his cigar as if with abstracted enjoyment. Then he said, almost detachedly, “The Assistant to the Secretary of State, Mr. Peale, is an old friend of mine.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Allan, looking at him fully, and smiling. “And Mr. Peale has the reputation of being greatly concerned with the problems of—exploited—labor. In fact, he was elected several times to the Senate on the platform. And his son, Mr. Patrick, has just become a senator on that I platform, too. With this difference: Mr. Patrick is sincere.”

  I was not mistaken, thought Rufus, who continued to smile with affectionate tolerance. The threat is not only real, it is ominous. And this young rascal has his price, if I’m not mistaken. A very large price.

  Allan added, “I haven’t, as yet, brought this decision to Mr. Patrick’s notice. He is a very earnest young gentleman, and he has extraordinary integrity. But you, Mr. deWitt, know that very well. He is to marry your niece, Miss Laura deWitt. If Mr. Patrick should learn of this decision—and I have discovered he doesn’t know of it—he would utilize it in behalf of the working people of Pennsylvania.”

  Mr. Angers, coldly annoyed and contemptuous, asked, “May I ask why you haven’t sent it on to Mr. Patrick before this? If it is so pertinent?”

  But Allan did not glance at him. He only smiled silently at Rufus.

  Rufus asked in a rich and gentle tone, “Do you intend to bring it to Mr. Patrick’s notice?”

  Allan shrugged. “I haven’t as yet decided.”

  Rufus laughed comfortably. He lifted the paper from under Mr. Angers’ hand and studied it again. The red lips puckered. Then, very slowly, he tore the paper into pieces, his bright hazel eyes smiling at Allan. “I think,” he remarked, “that we understand each other, my boy.” Mr. Angers turned his eyes from Rufus to Allan, and then back again, and a slight cleft appeared between his brows. Rufus went on: “No doubt Mr. Peale, and the young senator, have a high regard for you, Mr. Marshall. And I am sure the regard is justified. Sometime, soon perhaps, we must discuss the whole matter.”

  In spite of his self-possession, Allan had been secretly tense. These were men of power and wealth and position. He himself was nothing compared with them, except that he had knowledge, and he was ruthless. He had been prepared for smiling indulgence and condescension and, at the worst, a complete and patronizing rebuff. The fact that Rufus had recognized Allan for what he was, and had not underestimated the danger he personified, not only made Allan relax his tense muscles but increased his respect for the older man.

  Mr. Angers spoke indifferently. “Mr. deWitt employs a staff of very learned and competent lawyers. Even if
this miserable little decision were brought up, they could deal with it effectively, and induce a prominent judge to create a new precedent.”

  “Perhaps,” acknowledged Allan. “But in the meantime, the decision is there.” He spoke impatiently to the other man. “And first of all, there would have to be a pertinent case brought up; it would have to be argued in the light of this first decision, no matter how obscure it is. Mr. deWitt: you have heard of old Dan Boyle? He was once an engineer on your road. He lost two sons and a son-in-law in the ’77 strikes in Portersville. Since then, he has made a large fortune in coal. He is a very bitter man. He is my godfather, and has offered me anything I desire. He has suggested Harvard to me. Why I have so far refused his help is of no importance at this time. Should Mr. Boyle know of this decision he would hire the best lawyers in Pennsylvania to bring it to public notice. He would spare no money at all. And no effort. He is, as I have said, a very bitter old man, and he is out for blood.”

  “And you have refused his help, you have so far not brought this decision to his notice, for your own reasons?” asked Rufus with more affection than ever. “May I ask why, considering that he is your godfather, and you are so concerned about labor? May I suggest that you have not availed yourself of all this because you have another object in view?”

  “Your suggestion is correct,” answered Allan.

  Rufus nodded. “I knew, of course. If I am curious about all this you must forgive me. Mr. Marshall, I think you’ll go very far.” He smiled contentedly. Then, grunting a little, he pulled a small cheap handbill from his pocket, badly printed on yellowish paper. “You are the Aloysius Marshall who is mentioned here, I assume.”

  Allan inclined his head. Mr. Angers, with a disdainful and suspicious glance at the young man, picked up the handbill, which cried: “Grand Meeting of the Brotherhood of Railway Engineers! All welcome! December 18, 1885! Union Hall, Portersville! Seven o’clock in the evening! Don’t fail to come and hear our great Speaker, Aloysius Marshall, Worker and Workman’s Friend, son of our Brother, Timothy Marshall! He will deliver a Speech, Arise Sons of Labor! Come one, come all!”

  Mr. Angers tossed the handbill from him with a gesture of loathing. Deliberately, he wiped his delicate fingers on a fine white handkershief. The bones stood out in his fleshless face as he regarded Allan with disgust. “A rabble-rouser,” he said. He added more quickly, “Young man, in all fairness I think you should be warned that if your—speech—is inflammatory and disturbs the public peace, you will be summarily arrested.”

  “In that event, Dan Boyle will rush a bevy of highly paid lawyers to my assistance, and I shall present them with the John Hillary decision.” Allan spoke calmly and without any signs of consternation or fear.

  Rufus lifted his plump hand in loving admonition to both the other men. But he spoke to Mr. Angers. “Thomas, I have no fear that Mr. Marshall will do any real rabble-rousing. Am I correct, Mr. Marshall?”

  “You are correct, sir,” said Allan politely. “As of this day, at least.”

  For the first time Mr. Angers lost his contempt for this wretched upstart, this alien and hungry intruder. “I am beginning to see, I think,” he murmured, and now he actually smiled, a chill and understanding smile. He eyed Allan with reluctant respect and surprise. Then he recovered himself. “You have a slight—brogue—Mr. Marshall. Are you an Irishman?”

  “I am an American,” replied Allan.

  Rufus leaned back in his chair and he suffused an atmosphere of immense satisfaction and brotherhood. “Shall we now go into this patent matter? That was Allan’s purpose in coming here, wasn’t it? Very fortunate that I should have dropped in on my way home.” He gave Allan a benevolent and paternal smile, and tapped the sheets of drawings on Mr. Angers’ desk. Two hours ago he had said to Mr. Angers, “This is the most remarkable concept of an automatic coupler I have ever seen; it is unique, and invaluable. The man who invented it is a genius, and he worked as a coupler on our road, and is now a fireman. But genius or not, he is probably a dull and plodding ignoramus, in so far as business is concerned, like all his benighted class. Who worked up the drawings for him I do not know, but it was an expert draftsman. We shall offer this Marshall one thousand dollars for his patent, and five hundred extra for his draftsman.” Rufus had laughed comfortably. “A man who makes two dollars a day, or less, will regard a thousand dollars as a fortune. We can dispose of him in five minutes.”

  Now he said to Allan, “May I ask who made up these excellent drawings?”

  “I did,” said Allan.

  Even Rufus could not dissemble his astonishment. “You did! And where did you get your knowledge of mechanics, and your ability?”

  “Dan Boyle,” said Allan, smiling into Rufus’s eyes, “financed my drafting education in Scranton, in the offices of Boyd, Lynch & Company, for four summers, for over five years. You see, Dan—my godfather—lost four fingers when he was employed as a coupler for your company, many years ago. When I told him I wanted to invent an automatic coupler, he was very enthusiastic.”

  “I see,” said Rufus thoughtfully. His russet brows drew together as he studied the drawings again. “You know we use the Janney coupler, and the Westinghouse air brake now. We have found the coupler eminently satisfactory, though we do not employ it on all freight trains.”

  “But trains are becoming heavier,” said Allan. “The Janney coupler is inadequate. My patent is practical for any weight, as I have shown here.” He pointed to a third drawing. “Incidentally, Janney is interested in my coupler. You will notice that my invention consists of throwing up the flange on the knuckle hub, engaging the coupler lug, and relieving the knuckle pin from side strain. This permits a reduction in the leverage in the knuckle by carrying the fulcrum point farther forward. It was necessary, for your own couplers, to change from malleable iron to steel. But you’ve found that more strength was necessary, and that has been your problem. My invention has solved this problem. The knuckle pin is loose, and is removable when the knuckle is under pressure.” He paused. “Men are still being killed or injured with your Janney coupler, in spite of it being a very great improvement. As loads become heavier, your coupler, in its present form, will become less and less reliable. It couples by impact, and the knuckle unlocks without trainmen going between the cars, but the swinging of the knuckle into open position still has to be done by hand.”

  Though Mr. Angers and Rufus had thoroughly studied the drawings together for over two hours before Allan’s appearance, they kept their expressions judicious and doubtful. Seeing this, Allan smiled disagreeably to himself. He said, “I talked with Mr. Patrick Peale about my invention, after he was elected. He told me that he would work, in Washington, for a law making automatic coupling compulsory. He is very dissatisfied with the Janney automatic coupler as it is now. After I explained my coupler to him, he said he would bring it to the attention of the Master Car Builders Association. When I informed him that some company was going into its production, he said that any railway adopting my coupler would be hailed by him, and his colleagues, as a benefactor of man.”

  “Mr. Patrick is a very humanitarian person,” murmured Rufus, still studying the drawings.

  “And he is going to marry your niece, sir, who owns considerable Interstate Railroad Company stock.”

  Rufus glanced up quickly at Allan, but Allan’s dark face was very bland. Rufus chuckled richly. “Mr. Patrick is not concerned with the railroad, Allan. He is going to practice law in his father’s offices, when he is not in Washington.”

  Allan inclined his head. Rufus became uneasy. He person ally detested young Senator Peale, and his relief, when it had become evident that the senator preferred Laura to Cornelia, had been profound. He wanted no more “gray Stephens” in his immediate family. Such a man, a politician and a lawyer, would not disturb him when married to his niece. But such a man, interested in Rufus’s company, was dangerous. Rufus repeated, “He is going to practice law in his father’s offices, when he is not in Was
hington. He can have no real interest in our road, except, perhaps, in the stock dividends!” He chuckled again. Allan remained grave.

  “When it comes to a matter of life and limb, I think dividends will take second place with Senator Peale, sir. He is an idealist.” Allan looked directly at Rufus, and his strong black eyes flickered with contempt.

  This young scoundrel will use anything, or anybody, to further his ends, thought Rufus, with mingled anger, uneasiness, and admiration. He has a very subtle command of the art of blackmail.

  Rufus gave the young man his most magnetic and affectionate smile, and a slight wink. “I can see, my dear boy, that you do not hold idealists in very high esteem.”

  “On the contrary, sir, they are very valuable. To men like myself.”

  “For your own purposes?”

  But Allan only smiled in answer.

  Rufus turned from him then and exchanged a long look with Mr. Angers. Allan scrutinized that look, and was satisfied. But he held himself alerted. When the silence became deliberately oppressive between Mr. Angers and Rufus, Allan said quietly, “I assume you must have more time to consider my coupler. Shall we say two days?”

  “Impossible,” said Mr. Angers coldly. “We cannot be sure your invention, young man, is practicable. We shall have to consult—”

  Allan shrugged. “Mr. Angers, you have had considerable time to consult, as you call it. I am willing to extend the time for forty-eight hours, in deference to the Interstate Railroad Company. But, in the meantime, I shall write to the two other companies interested in the patent, notifying them of a quick decision on my part in the very near future.”

  Rufus lay back in his chair, his fatty hands clasped together over his belly, his thumbs twiddling rapidly. He studied Allan with sharp intensity. The scoundrel might be a blackmailer, but he did not bluff. Whatever battle he entered, he would not come inadequately armed. He would be certain of every step he took, every weapon he used. As a polished blackmailer, himself, Rufus recognized an even better artist. Rufus came to a quick decision. He changed his expression to one of confidential fondness.