Montague went back to his work, but with a heart full of misgivings. He would have liked to persuade himself that that was the end of the episode, but he could not do it. He foresaw that his job as president of a railroad would not be a sinecure. With all his forebodings, however, he was unprepared for the development which came the next day. Young Curtiss called him up, early in the morning, and asked him to wait at his office. A few minutes later he came in, with evident agitation upon his countenance.
“Montague,” he said, “I have something important to tell you. I cannot leave you in ignorance about it. But before I begin, you must understand one thing—that I am taking my future in my hands by telling you. And you must promise me that you will never give the slightest hint that I have spoken to you.”
“I will promise,” said Montague. “What is it?”
“You must not even let on that you know,” added the other. “Price would know that I told you.”
“Oh, it's Price!” said Montague. “I'll promise to protect you. What is it?”
“He called up Davenant yesterday afternoon, and told him that you were not to be elected president of the road.”
Montague gazed at him in dismay.
“He says you are to be dropped entirely,” said the other. “Haskins is to be president. Davenant had to tell me, because I am one of the directors.”
“So that's it,” Montague whispered to himself.
“Do you know what's the matter?” asked Curtiss.
“Yes, I do,” said Montague.
“What is it?”
“It's a long story—just some graft that I wouldn't stand for.”
“Oh!” cried Curtiss, with sudden light. “Is it the Hill Manufacturing Company?”
“It is,” said Montague.
It was Curtiss's turn to stare in amazement. “My God!” he gasped. “Do you mean that you have thrown up the sponge for that?”
“I haven't thrown up the sponge, by any means,” was the answer. “But that's why Price wants to get rid of me.”
“But, man!” cried the other. “How perfectly absurd!”
Montague fixed his glance upon him.
“Would you advise me to stand for it?” he asked.
“But, my dear fellow!” said Curtiss. “I've got some stock in that company myself.”
Montague sat in silence—he could think of nothing to say after that.
“What in the world do you suppose you have gone into?” protested the other. “A charity enterprise?” Then he stopped, seeing the look of pain upon his friend's face.
He put a hand upon his arm. “See here, old, man,” he said, “this is too bad, honestly. I understand how you feel, and it's a great credit to you; but you are living in the world, and you have got to be practical. You can't expect to take a railroad and run it as if it were an orphan asylum. You can't expect to do business, if you're going to have notions like that. It's really a shame, to give up a work like this for such a reason.”
Montague stiffened. “I assure you I haven't given up yet,” he replied grimly.
“But what are you going to do?” protested the other.
“I am going to fight,” said he.
“Fight?” echoed Curtiss. “But, man, you are perfectly helpless! Price and Ryder own the road, and they will do as they please with it.”
“You are one of the directors of the road,” said Montague. “And you know the situation. You know the pledges upon which the election of the new board was secured. Will you vote for Haskins as president?”
“My God, Montague!” protested the other. “What a thing to ask of me! You know perfectly well that I have no power in the road. All the stock I own, Price gave me, and what can I do? Why, my whole career would be ruined if I were to oppose him.”
“In other words,” said Montague, “you are a dummy. You are willing to sell your name and your character for a block of stock. You take a position of trust, and you betray it.”
The other's face hardened. “Oh, well,” he said, “if that's the way you put it—”
“That's not the way I put it!” said Montague. “That is simply the fact.”
“But,” cried the other, “don't you realise that they have a majority, even without me?”
“Perhaps they have,” said Montague; “but that is no reason why you should not do what is right.”
Curtiss arose. “There is nothing more to be said,” he remarked. “I am sorry you take it that way. I tried to do you a service.”
“I appreciate that,” said Montague, promptly. “For that I shall always be obliged to you.”
“In this fight that you propose to make,” said the other, “you must not forget that it is I who have brought you this information—”
“Do not trouble about that,” said Montague; “I will protect you. No one shall ever know that I had the information.”
Montague spent a half an hour pacing up and down his office in thought. Then he called his stenographer, and dictated a letter to his cousin, Mr. Lee, and to each of the three other persons whom he had approached in relation to their votes at the stockholders' meeting. “Certain matters have developed,” he wrote, “in connection with the affairs of the Northern Mississippi Railroad, which make me unwilling to accept the position of president. It is also my intention to resign from the board of directors of the road, in which I find myself powerless to prevent the things of which I disapprove.”
And then he went on to outline the plan which he intended to carry out, explaining that he offered to those whom he had been the means of influencing, the opportunity to go in with him upon equal terms. He requested them to communicate their decisions by telegraph; and two days later he had heard from them all, and was ready for business.
He called up Stanley Ryder, and made an appointment for an interview.
“Mr. Ryder,” he said, “a few weeks ago you talked with me in this office, and asked me to assist you in electing your ticket for the Northern Mississippi Railroad. You said that you wished me to become president of the road, and that the reason for the request was that you wanted a man whom you could depend upon for efficient and honest management. I accepted your offer in good faith; and I have made all arrangements, and put in a great deal of hard work at the task of fitting myself for the position. Now I have learned from Mr. Price's own lips that he has organised a company for the purpose of exploiting the road for his own private benefit. I told him that I was unwilling to stand for anything of the sort. Since then I have been thinking the matter over, and I have concluded that this situation will make it impossible for me to cooperate with Mr. Price. I have concluded, therefore, that it would be best for me to resign my position as a member of the board of directors, and also to withdraw my candidacy as president.”
Ryder had avoided Montague's gaze; he sat staring in front of him, and tapping nervously with a pencil upon his desk. It was some time before he answered.
“Mr. Montague,” he said, finally, “I am very sorry indeed to hear your decision. But taking all the circumstances into consideration, it seems to me that perhaps it is a wise one.”
Again there was a pause.
“You must permit me to thank you for what you have done,” Ryder added. “And I trust that this unfortunate episode will not alter our personal relationship.”
“Thank you,” said Montague, coldly.
He had waited to see what Ryder would say. He waited again, having no mind to help him in his embarrassment.
&............