by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XII
MR. CHAMBERS TAKES A HAND
Mr. Alexander Chambers sat in the center of his airy private office,panelled to the ceiling in Flemish oak, looking through the selectionsfrom the Monday morning's mail his secretary had just laid upon hisgreat glass-topped desk. His lofty forehead, crowned with soft, whitehair, made one think of the splendid dome of Walter Scott. But below theforehead, in the face that was beginning to be netted with finewrinkles, there was neither poetry nor romanticism: power, that wasall--power under perfect mastery. The gray eyes were quiet, steady; themouth, half hid under a thick, short-cropped, iron-gray moustache, was afirm straight line; the jaw was a great triangle with the squared apexas a chin. Facetious persons sometimes referred to that triangular chinas "Chambers's cowcatcher;" but many there were who said that those thatgot in Chambers's way were never thrown aside to safety, but went downbeneath the wheels.
As he skimmed the letters through with a rapidity that in him seemedease, there was nothing about him to suggest the "human dynamo," whichhas come to be the popular conception of the man of vast businessachievement--no violent outward show of effort, no whirring of wheels,no coruscating flashes of escaping electricity. He ran noiselessly,effortlessly, reposefully. Those who knew him intimately could no morehave imagined Alexander Chambers in a strain than Providence.
He glanced the last letter through--a report from Mr. Jordon on thenegotiations for the land controlled by Rogers--pushed the heap asideand touched a button. Immediately there entered a young man oftwenty-eight or thirty.
"Please have Mr. Jordon come over as soon as he can," Mr. Chambers saidin a quiet voice to his secretary.
"Yes, sir. I was just coming to tell you, when you rang, that Mr. Allenis waiting to see you."
"Have him come in."
As Allen entered Mr. Chambers raised his strong, erect figure to hisfeet and held out his hand with a smile. "How are you, Allen. You lookas fresh as a spring morning."
"Then I look as I feel. I'm just back from Myrtle Hill. It was aglorious two days--though we missed you a lot."
"Come now, some of the party may have missed me--but you, did you thinkof me once?" Those who knew Mr. Chambers in a business way alone, wouldhave felt surprise at the humorous wrinkles that radiated from the outercorners of his eyes. "The next time I arrange for a weekend party I'llsee that the wires to Boston are cut. But how did you leave Helen?"
They sat down. "With nothing to be desired in point of health"--Allenhesitated a moment--"and everything to be desired in point of her regardfor me."
Mr. Chambers considered Allen's strongly masculine face. "You'll winher in the end, as you've won everything else--by fighting right on.There's no one that ranks higher with her than you."
"She's told me if an edict were passed compelling her to marryto-morrow, I'd be the man. But--she's not eager for the edict."
"You've won her head, at least. That's progress."
"Not even all her head. She disapproves of my ideas. She made that clearto me again yesterday. I tell you, I do wish her concern in St.Christopher's and such things could be--well, at least lessened quite abit."
"That's hardly possible--her concern is too deeply rooted." Mr. Chambersshook his head reminiscently. "She has it from her mother."
"Yes, but the strength with which she holds to it--that she has fromyou. I suppose there is little chance of uprooting her convictions.But--I feel I've gained one concession."
"Yes?"
"She's promised at the end of five weeks to give me her yes or no."
Mr. Chambers leaned forward and grasped Allen's hand. "You know whichanswer I want. And I'm sure it will be that."
They looked at each other steadily a moment, then settled back intotheir chairs.
"Now about that merger," said Allen. "That's what brought me in." AndAllen, who handled the legal side of many of Mr. Chambers's affairs,began to discuss certain legal details of a railroad consolidation Mr.Chambers had under consideration.
The instant Allen was out of the office, the secretary announced Mr.Jordon and at Mr. Chambers's order ushered him in. Mr. Jordon, a manwhom prosperity had flushed and bulked, wished Mr. Chambers good morningwith that little tone of deference which a successful business man usesto a more successful business man, and seated himself in theleather-covered chair Allen had just vacated.
Mr. Chambers picked up Mr. Jordon's letter from the heap on his desk.
"I wanted to speak to you about the price this Mr. Rogers insists on forthe land he controls," he said in his even voice. "It is at a far higherrate than we paid for the rest of the land. You've done all that'spossible to get him to lower his terms?"
"Everything!" For emphasis Mr. Jordon clapped two fat hands down upontwo fat knees. "But he's as solid as a rock. If we were dealing with thereal owners individually, it would be different. They're anxious to selland they're all short on nerve. It's him that holds them together andkeeps them braced up."
"I suppose you've tried to get them to withdraw their land from hiscontrol?"
"I tried that long ago. But it wouldn't work. He's promised them a bigprice, and he's made them believe they'll get it."
"Then you think as you say here"--he laid his hand upon theletter--"that we'd better pay him what he demands and close the deal?"
"I certainly do. We've got to have that land, and to get it we've got topay his price. He knows that and he won't come down a dollar. Sincewe've got to pay the price in the end, I'm for paying it right now andnot losing any more time in launching the company before the public."
"Your reasoning is sound. But you're aware, of course, that thedifference between his price and the rate we've been paying isconsiderably over fifty thousand?"
"Yes, but we're not going to lose money on it even at that." Mr. Jordonnodded knowingly. "Besides, when we come to counting up the profits onthe whole deal, we'll never miss that fifty thousand."
"Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Jordon," Mr. Chambers said quietly, "isfifty thousand dollars."
Mr. Jordon blushed as though caught in an ill deed. "Yes--yes--ofcourse," he stammered. "We don't want to lose it, but how are we goingto help it?"
Mr. Chambers did not answer--gave no sign of having noticed the other'sembarrassment. "Suppose we have a meeting here to-morrow afternoon, andtry again to get him to lower his price."
"Very well--I'll write him to be here. But I warn you that he'll notcome down a cent."
"Then I suppose we'll have to settle on some other basis." There was amoment's pause. "By the way, who is this Mr. Rogers?"
"Never heard of him till I ran across him in this deal. Nobody seems toknow much about him. He's just a little two-for-a-cent agent that wascute enough to see this chance and grab it."
Mr. Chambers said no more, and Mr. Jordon, seeing that use for himselfwas over, departed.
Mr. Chambers had an instinct for loss that was like a composer's ear forfalse notes. In his big financial productions he detected a possibleloss instantly; it pained him as a discord, and he at once set aboutcorrecting it. The New Jersey Home Company was but one of the manycoexisting schemes that had sprung from his creative brain, and thefifty thousand dollars was a beggar's penny compared to the sums thatfloated through his mind. But the fifty thousand dollars was a loss, aflaw, and he could not pass it by.
Mr. Chambers had the theory, proved by long practice, that many men havesomething hidden away in their lives which if discovered and properlyused, or some vulnerable business spot which if struck, will so disablethem that they cannot stand up against your plans. This theory, applied,had turned for him many a hopeless struggle into a quiet, easyvictory--so that it had become his practice, when dealing with a manwhose past life and whose present business relations he did not know, toacquaint himself with all that could be uncovered.
The moment Mr. Jordon had gone Mr. Chambers wrote a line, requestingfull information about Rogers, and enclosed it in an envelope which headdressed to the man who usually served him in such
confidentialmatters. He touched a button and handed the note to his secretary. "Seethat Mr. Hawkins gets this at once," he said.
* * * * *
That afternoon a man, whom David afterward remembered as a diamond ring,a diamond shirt-stud and a heavy gold watch-chain, walked into theoffice of John Rogers.
"Is this Mr. Rogers?" he asked of David, who was alone in the room.
"No. Aldrich is my name. But I represent him. Can I do anything foryou?"
"I'd like to see him if I can. I'm thinking of investing in some realestate in this neighbourhood, and I've been looking at a couple ofhouses that I was told he was agent for."
"I'll call him--wait a minute."
David went into the living room, and at once returned. "Mr. Rogers willbe right in," he said.
"Thanks." The man turned his pinkish face about the room. "Cosy littleoffice you've got, for this part of town," he remarked, with an air ofspeaking pleasantries to kill time.
"Yes--we think so."
"How long's Mr. Rogers been interested in real estate in thisneighbourhood?"
"I've been with him for less than a year, so I don't exactly know. But Ibelieve about eight or nine years."
"In the same business before then?"
But the entrance of Rogers at that instant saved David a reply. Thecaller, who had sat down, rose and held out his hand.
"Is this Mr. Rogers? Harris is my name--William Harris."
Rogers, as he came up, laid hold of the back of a chair. He did not seeMr. Harris's hand.
"I'm glad to meet you," he returned in his low voice. "Won't you sitdown?"
The three took chairs, and the next hour was filled with talk about thehouses Mr. Harris had examined. Mr. Harris was very eager for thebuildings, and David became excited at the prospect of the agent'scommission that would come from the sale. But Rogers was quiet andreserved as always--answering all questions fully, save a few casualpersonal queries which he evaded. When Mr. Harris went away he said inso many words that the deal was as good as settled, except for a smalldifference in the price which would bother them little.
The instant the office door closed upon Mr. Harris David turned eagerlyto Rogers, who was sitting motionless in his chair.
"Won't that be a windfall though if he takes those houses!" he cried."Your commission will be at least two thousand dollars!"
There was no tinge of enthusiasm in Rogers's pale cheeks. He did notspeak at once, and when he did he ignored David's exclamations.
"Did you notice, Aldrich," he said in a strained voice, "that I avoidedtaking his hand when he offered it at first and again when we parted?"
"No. Why?"
"I was afraid."
"Afraid?" repeated David, puzzled. "What of?"
"I shook hands with Bill Halpin--and you know what he found out."
David stepped nearer to Rogers, and saw in his eyes the look of huntedfear.
"I don't understand," he said slowly.
"Mr. Harris may be a _bona-fide_ dealer in real estate--but fifteenyears ago he was one of the cleverest detectives on the New York policeforce. I recognised him the instant I saw him. He helped arrest meonce."
David sank slowly to a chair. "You don't say so!" he ejaculated. Hestared for several moments at Rogers's thin face, on which he could nowsee the exhaustion of the straining interview. "Do you think he canpossibly be on your trail?--and if so, what for?"
"What for, I don't know. But didn't you notice how he was constantlystudying me?--how he slipped in a question about what I used to do?--howhe tried to learn the names of some of my friends, whom he might quizabout me? He's clever."
"But do you think he found out anything?"
"I don't think he did. I was watching him closer than he was watchingme, for any least sign of recognition. I didn't see any. But you know Ican't help fearing, Aldrich! I can't help fearing!"
David tried to drive the strained, hunted look from Rogers's face bysaying that there was hardly any possibility of his identity beingdiscovered, and no apparent motive for it being used against him even iffound out. David succeeded in bringing back his own confidence, and atlength drew from Rogers the admission, "Well, maybe you're right."