“My idea exactly. That is just what I want to do. But that will be an important interview, my dear Doctor, and I want you to be present.”
“Me?” said the doctor, surprised.
“Yes. I’ve got a notion in my head that Jordan has defrauded the Cardens, as well as me, and you must stand as the friend of the Cardens, in case we get the man to admit anything. It can’t be possible, sir, that Jordan ever loaned John Carden money, for in those days he was poor. In that case why should we suppose that Carden, who was shrewd enough to become a successful inventor, would turn over all rights to his process to another man, leaving his family in utter poverty?”
“It doesn’t seem reasonable,” agreed the doctor.
“Let us take Jordan unawares, and accuse him of his villainy. Perhaps we may induce him to confess all, and then your presence as a witness would be valuable both to me and to the Carden family.”
“Very well; when do you want me?”
“Call at the office at three, tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have Jordan in, and we’ll see how much can be scared out of him.”
So the matter was arranged, although Dr. Meigs had his doubts about their success. Chester D. Williams was evidently a man who liked to face a difficulty without fear and bore his way to the bottom of it. And it really seemed that he had ample foundation for his suspicions of Mr. Jordan. But when the doctor thought it all over, and looked back upon Mr. Jordan’s regular and modest life, and remembered how admirable his conduct had ever been in the eyes of all who knew him, he hesitated to believe the man guilty of such bold and audacious villainy as was suggested by Mr. Williams’ recent discoveries.
Doubtless the man was by nature cold, and he might be heartless. It was within the bounds of possibility that he had robbed John Carden’s family of all those immense royalties earned by the process. But to sell the same process to an English corporation was altogether too hazardous a scheme for any man to undertake: unless, indeed, his past success had made him reckless.
In any event, the doctor doubted that sufficient proof could be advanced to convict Mr. Jordan. The inventor was dead, and no one else could prove that Jordan had no right to the process. And without proof the case was hopeless.
Yet promptly at three o’clock Dr. Meigs called at the steel works and was admitted to Mr. Williams’ private office.
The proprietor was engaged at his desk when his friend entered, and after a nod in the doctor’s direction and a request that he be seated, he swung around and touched an electric button.
“Please ask Mr. Jordan to step here,” he said to the boy who answered the bell.
Such promptness fairly startled the doctor, but in a moment he collected himself for the coming interview, acknowledging to himself that Mr. Williams was right. If a disagreeable duty was to be performed, the sooner it was over with, the better.
Mr. Jordan entered with his usual stiff and solemn air, and gave the doctor a brief nod of recognition. Then he paused before Mr. Williams’ desk in a way that indicated rather than expressed an inquiry as to why he had been summoned.
The mill owner laid down his pen and looked his secretary square in the face.
“Mr. Jordan,” said he, “We have lost that order of the Italian government.”
“Why?” asked the other, a shade of disappointment in his harsh voice.
“Because the Atlas Steel Company of Birmingham, England, has offered the same steel as mine at a lower price.”
“Impossible!” cried the man, startled for once out of his usual apathy.
“No, it is true,” replied Mr. Williams, calmly. “The Atlas works is using the Carden process, and turning out a product even better than we are at Bingham.”
Mr. Jordan’s face was pale and haggard. He looked around with a hunted air, and then, seeing that both men were regarding him keenly, he controlled himself with an effort and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
“How could they know of my — of the Carden process?” he asked, hoarsely.
“The answer is very simple,” said Mr. Williams, with admirable composure; “you sold the secret, in order to obtain a royalty from them, as well as from me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON THE WRONG TRAIL
FOR A MOMENT Mr. Jordan made no reply. But he stared at his employer with eyes so full of horror that his sincerity was very evident.
“I sell the secret to others!” he exclaimed, at last. “Why, it would ruin me. Do you accuse me of being a fool, sir, as well as a scoundrel?”
“All scoundrels are fools,” returned Mr. Williams, dryly. “But, if you have not sold the secret to the Englishmen, please explain to me where and how they got it.”
Again the hunted, fearful look crossed the man’s face, and again he made an evident struggle to appear calm.
“I cannot explain it, sir. But it need not affect our business to any serious extent. There is enough demand for our steel in America to keep our furnaces busy, without going abroad for orders.”
He spoke mechanically, as if the problem was not new to him and he had often considered the matter in much the same way as he now clearly expressed it. Yet the set, expressionless tones were habitual to him, as they are to all who are unaccustomed to speak at any length.
“That is not the point,” said Mr. Williams, sternly. “We are confronted, for the first time, with competition, and by a firm active enough to oppose us in foreign markets. What will be the end of it? What will happen when they attempt to compete with us in our home markets?”
“They must pay duty, and we can always meet their price,” said Mr. Jordan, his voice sounding a bit defiant.
“The royalties I am obliged to pay you on my product more than offset the duties,” retorted the manufacturer. “Indeed, your demands force me to exact so high a price that our customers are already complaining. The secret is a secret no longer, it seems. Then why should I continue to pay you royalties?”
“If you choose to discontinue our arrangement, sir, I can dispose of the process to others. The firm of Thomson Brothers & Hayden stands ready — ”
“Bah!” exclaimed Mr. William’s, slamming the desk with his fist in momentary scorn. “You know very well I cannot abandon my present product. It would render this expensive plant of no further value.”
Mr. Jordan bowed, with deference.
“I am willing to fulfill our contract in the future, as in the past, on the exact terms it stipulates. I have no doubt the mills will continue to prosper. Anything more, sir?”
He half turned, as if to go.
“Yes,” snapped the proprietor, who began to realize he had accomplished nothing by this interview.
Mr. Jordan waited, and for a time his employer remained silent, staring curiously at the impenetrable face of his secretary. Then he asked:
“How did you come to own this process, anyway? Why does it not belong to the heirs of the man who discovered it?”
Mr. Jordan poised his gaunt form more erectly than ever, and his glittering spectacles were directed full upon the other’s face. “I believe I have already explained that. John Carden transferred to me his right to the discovery in consideration of money which he owed me and could not pay.”
“You loaned him money?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Sir, that is not your affair.”
“You never earned a dollar more than a bare living until I began to pay you royalties on the process. On the other hand, I have evidence that Carden loaned you money.”
The man shrank back.
“You are becoming offensive, Mr. Williams, in your remarks, and I beg to remind you we are not alone,” he said, not without dignity.
“I am interested in this matter myself, sir,” said Dr. Meigs, now speaking for the first time. “You know that I am a friend of the Carden family, even as I have always been your friend, Mr. Jordan. Therefore it would please me to be able to disentangle this mystery and have all doubts removed from my mind. You have
told me, as you have told Mr. Williams, that John Carden owed you ten thousand dollars when he went away. Naturally we are curious to know how so great a sum came into the possession of a poor bank clerk, such as you then were. And also I have wondered what John Carden ever did with that money.”
Again the secretary wiped his brow, but, ignoring for the present Mr. Williams, he turned toward the doctor to reply.
“You have no right to ask me such questions, Doctor Meigs; but it may be that from your standpoint there is some justice in your suspicions. I am, therefore, quite willing to answer you. John Carden spent all his own money, and afterward mine, in expensive experiments. The money I obtained by a lucky speculation in a lottery, the ticket for which I bought under an assumed name, as I did many other tickets, when I was a poor clerk and had no hopes of otherwise acquiring wealth. It is very natural I should hesitate to declare myself a gambler, by explaining this openly; but never since that time have I invested one cent in speculation of any sort. And now, as I have duties to attend to, I will bid you good afternoon, believing that you will respect my confidence.”
As he concluded, the secretary, who never within the knowledge of man had uttered so lengthy a speech before, bowed gravely and stalked from the room, holding himself as rigidly upright as an Egyptian obelisk.
When he was gone the two friends exchanged glances.
“Well?” said Mr. Williams, interrogatively.
“I admit that I am puzzled,” answered the doctor. “It is quite possible for Mr. Jordan to have won ten thousand dollars on a lottery ticket.”
“Yes; that was clever. There’s no controverting it.”
“But I do not think he sold the secret of your process to the Englishmen.”
“Nor do I. The man’s looks convinced me I was mistaken. But they also convinced me he has a secret he is desperately trying to hide. We’re on a false scent, that’s all.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“And what can explain the fact that the Atlas company of Birmingham is using the Carden process?”
“Are you sure it’s the same process?”
“Humph! Do you know anything about the way steel is made?”
“No.”
“It is a very delicate process to extract the impurities from iron and to transform that metal into a steel that will stand severe tension and become of so fine a temper that it will cut diamonds. Our product also had marvelous resiliency, and can be forged without losing any of its qualities. All this is accomplished by manipulations that are the result of accurate scientific calculations. No one could stumble upon such a process as Carden evolved by years of intelligent effort, and by no other process than Carden’s could such steel ever be manufactured.”
“Well, what will you do now?”
“I don’t know. What I’d like to do is to go to Birmingham at once and see if I can solve the mystery.”
“Why don’t you?” asked the doctor.
“I’m afraid to leave Jordan, to tell the truth. If he should attempt to run away I must be here to stop him. His suspicions will be aroused by this interview, and should he escape he would take the secret with him, and I would be forced to close the works. Can’t you go, Doctor?”
“No, indeed. I can’t leave my patients. There are some who need me every day of their lives or think they do, which is the same thing. A physician isn’t his own master, you know, and moreover this isn’t a physician’s business. Send a confidential agent.”
“I will. Whom do you suggest?”
“Will Carden.”
Mr. Williams smiled into the doctor’s earnest face.
“If I sent Will to Europe, Jordan would at once become suspicious,” said he.
“No one need know he has gone to Europe. We’ll keep it quiet, and as he is known to be my partner in the mushroom business I can send him away on our private affairs, and Mr. Jordan will have no cause to be suspicious.”
“I will think over the suggestion before deciding. But I’m glad you mentioned Will. He’s a fine, intelligent young fellow, and the trip would do him a lot of good.”
“Indeed it would. Good afternoon, Mr. Williams.”
“I am grateful to you for giving me this hour,” said the manufacturer, rising to shake his friend’s hand, “for although we have not accomplished much it has relieved me of some of my suspicions of Mr. Jordan. I am still positive he deceived me about the formula, and there is no doubt he is a cold-blooded miser who would stick at nothing to make money. Also, he has a secret. But, after all, few men are thoroughly understood, and in the end Jordan may prove to be less of a scoundrel than we have considered him.”
With this the interview terminated, and Doctor Meigs went away to call upon his patients. But for a time there was an unusually thoughtful expression upon his kindly face.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE “SPECIAL MESSENGER”
WILL CARDEN WAS quite surprised to receive another invitation to confer with Mr. Williams. This time, however, he was asked to call at the Williams house in the evening “on a matter of great importance,” and while this was less formal than the previous appointment it was also more mysterious. Wondering greatly why he was summoned, the boy dressed himself with care, kissed his mother good night, and walked down the road toward the village, filled with impatient eagerness.
Will’s fortunes were quite prosperous at this juncture; or, as he reflected in his boyish fashion: “Things seem to be coming my way.” But he was too wise to attribute it to “luck,” knowing full well how much he owed to the kindness of good Doctor Meigs, backed by his own sturdy labor and a strict attention to the details of his business.
“These ‘lucky’ fellows,” the doctor had once said, “are usually found to have created their own luck by hard work and upright methods,” and the observation struck Will as being very close to the truth. This spring he had abandoned the idea of raising a variety of small vegetables, as he had done in previous years, and contented himself with planting all his available ground with potatoes. These, if properly cared for, would pay nearly as much profit as the market garden, and be a good deal less work. Now that the mushrooms were doing so well the boy felt he could afford to take life a trifle easier, and this method reduced Egbert’s labors as well as his own.
Pondering these things he rang the bell at the big house and was at once ushered into Mr. Williams’ study, where he was delighted to find Doctor Meigs seated.
After the first words of greeting Mr. Williams said:
“Will, how would you like to go to England, on a little business trip?”
The youth was so astonished that for a moment he stared at his questioner vacantly, and during this interval the mill owner made a rapid but not less complete inspection of the messenger he was about to entrust with so important and delicate an errand.
Will Carden could hardly be called a boy any longer. He was nearly eighteen years of age, and had grown swiftly toward manhood since the reader was first introduced to him. Tall and well-knit, with broad shoulders and an erect bearing, a stranger might easily have guessed the young man to be two or three years older than he really was. Moreover, there was a sagacious and observant expression upon his young face that might well have been caused by his vivid appreciation of the responsibilities thrust upon him so early in life. Yet, lest you mistake Will for a paragon, let it be said that the same expression may often be seen upon the face of a manly young fellow looking broadly upon the great future, and it is well worth observing. Will had his failings, as all properly constituted boys have; but they were such as threw his better qualities into strong relief.
Mr. Williams seemed well satisfied with his brief inspection, and felt intuitively that he might rely upon the youth’s discretion and faith.
“Are you in earnest, sir?” asked Will.
“Very much in earnest,” was the quiet reply. “The errand is a secret one, yet I do not ask you to go as a spy, but rather to investigate as fully as possible th
e business of the Atlas Steel Company of Birmingham. Upon your success depends to a great extent my future prosperity as a manufacturer. Will you undertake this mission?”
“If you think I am capable, sir, I will gladly go. It would please me to be of use to you, and I would enjoy the voyage and the chance to visit a foreign land.”
“Very good,” said Mr. Williams. “I will pay all of your expenses, and allow you a hundred dollars a month for salary while you are absent.”
“That is too much, sir, and I cannot accept it,” said Will, firmly. “It will be enough to pay my expenses. Egbert can look after things while I am away, so that the business will suffer very little.”
“I am sorry you decline my offer,” replied the manufacturer, rather stiffly. It obliges me to find another messenger, to whom I will probably be forced to pay double the salary I have offered you. Men who are competent and whom I may trust, are not to be had for a song, Mr. Carden.”
Will looked red and embarrassed. He had never been called “Mr. Carden” by his friend Mr. Williams before, and the formal title led him to believe he had unwittingly offended the man who had been so kind to him. He looked appealingly at the doctor.
“You’re a confounded idiot, sir!” said that brusque personage, with a deeper frown than usual, although in his heart the doctor was secretly admiring the boy. “Here is a chance to be of great service to Mr. Williams, who coolly informs you that much of his future prosperity — a matter of many millions, doubtless depends upon this mission to England. Do you wish to rob him, sir, by forcing him to employ a high priced agent, when you can do as well for a smaller sum?”
Will seemed bewildered.
“You don’t appear to understand me, Doctor,” he said, reproachfully. “It will be a splendid thing for me, a regular holiday, to make a trip like that. Why should I ask my friend to pay me a lot of money in addition?”
“The laborer is worthy of his hire,” quoted Doctor Meigs, bluntly. “Can’t you see that by accepting the salary which is little enough, in all conscience you give Mr. Williams the right to use your services in any way he may direct?”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 774