XVIII
HOW THE MAN BECAME A PRINCE AGAIN
O'Neil had the faculty of sleeping well, in spite of the mosttormenting worries. He arose on the morning after his interview withMr. Heidlemann, ready to begin the struggle with all his normal energyand confidence. But the day brought him only discouragement. He had alarge acquaintance, the mention of his name in quarters where he wasnot personally known gained him respectful attention; but he foundhimself working in the shadow of the Copper Trust, and its silentinfluence overcame his strongest arguments. One banker expressed thegeneral attitude by saying:
"If the Heidlemanns were not in the field we might help you, but itwould be financial suicide to oppose them."
"There's no opposition about it," Murray assured him. "If I build thatbridge they'll buy us out."
At this his hearer very naturally wished to know why, if the bridgewere indeed feasible, the Heidlemanns delayed action; and O'Neil had tofall back upon a recital of the facts, realizing perfectly that theyfailed to carry conviction.
No one, it seemed, cared to risk even a semblance of rivalry with thatmonstrous aggregation of capital, for the interlacing of financialinterests was amazingly intricate, and financiers were fearful of theleast misstep. Everywhere O'Neil encountered the same dishearteningtimidity. His battle, it seemed, had been lost before it was begun.
Days passed in fruitless endeavors; evenings found O'Neil in his cornerof the Holland House Cafe racking his brain for some way out of hisperplexities. Usually he was surrounded by friends, for he continued toentertain in the lavish fashion for which he had gained a reputation;but sometimes he was alone, and then his solitude became moreoppressive than it had ever been even in the farthest wastes of thenorthland. He was made to feel his responsibility with dreadfulkeenness, for his associates were in a panic and bombarded him withdaily inquiries, vexatious and hard to answer. He had hoped that inthis extremity they might give him some practical help, and they didmake a few half-hearted attempts, only to meet the same discouragementsas he. At last they left him to carry the burden alone.
A week, two weeks went by. He was in constant cable communication withOmar, but not even the faithful Dr. Gray knew the dire straits in whichhis chief was struggling. Work on the S. R. & N. was going forward asusual. The organization was running at its highest efficiency: railswere being laid; gangs of rock-workers were preparing the grade beyondthe glaciers. Yet every day that passed, every pay-check drawn broughtruin closer. Nevertheless, O'Neil continued to joke and chat with themen who came to his table in the cafe and kept his businessappointments with his customary cheerfulness. The waiters who attendedhim rejoiced in his usual princely tips.
One evening as he ran through his mail he found a letter in a woman'shandwriting and, glancing at the signature, started. It was signed"Gloria Gordon." Briefly it apprised him of her marriage and of her andNatalie's return to Hope. Gloria thanked him perfunctorily for his manykindnesses, but she neither expressed nor implied an invitation for himto visit them. He smiled a little grimly--already her loyalty hadveered to Gordon's side, and Natalie no doubt shared her feeling. Well,it was but natural, perhaps. It would be unreasonable to expect them tosacrifice their desires, and what they now seemed to consider theirinterests, to a business quarrel they could hardly be expected tounderstand. He could not help feeling hurt that the women should soreadily exchange his friendship for the protection of his bitterestenemy, but--they were helpless and he had helped them; let it rest atthat. He was really troubled, however, that they had been so easilydeceived. If they had only waited! If he had only been able to advisethem! For Gordon's intention was plain. He was aroused from his trainof thought by a stranger whom he found standing beside his table andlooking down at him with wavering eye.
"Misser O'Neil, ain't it?" the fellow inquired. "Sure! Thought I knewyou. I'm Bulker, of the old North Pass. Remember me?"
Mr. Bulker had been imbibing freely. He showed evidences of aprotracted spree not only in his speech, but in the trembling handwhich he extended. His eyes were bloodshot, and his good-natured facewas purple.
O'Neil greeted him pleasantly, and, considering himselfenthusiastically welcomed, the new-comer sat down suddenly, as if someone had tripped him.
"Been washing you for ten minutes."
"Washing me?"
"No! WASHING you. Couldn't make you out--eyesight's getting bad. Toomany bright lights in this town. Ha! Joke! Let's have a gill."
"Thank you, no."
"Must have a little dram for old time's sake. You're the only one ofthe North Pass crowd I'll drink with." Mr. Bulker gesturedcomprehensively at a group of waiters, and Murray yielded. "You were myfriend, O'Neil; you always treated me right."
"What are you doing now?" asked O'Neil, with the interest he could notrefuse to any one who had ever worked with him. He remembered thefellow perfectly. He had come on from the East as auditor, and hadappeared to be capable, although somewhat given to drink.
"I'm a broker. Wall Street's my habitat. Fine time to buy stocks,Misser O'Neil." Bulker assumed an expression of great wisdom. "Like tohave a tip? No? Good! You're a wise man. They fired me from the NorthPass. Wha'd you know about that? Fired me for drinking! Greatestinjustice I ever heard of, but I hit running, like a turkey. Thatwasn't the reason they let me go, though. Not on your life!" He winkedportentously, and strangely enough his eyelid failed to resume itsnormal position. It continued to droop, giving the appearance of awaggish leer. "I knew too mush! Isn't healthy to know too mush, is it?"
"I've never had a chance to find out," smiled Murray.
"Oh, don't be an ingenue; you savvied more than anybody on the job.I'll admit I took a nip now and then, but I never got pickled. Say! Whod'you s'pose I saw to-day? Old man Illis!"
O'Neil became suddenly intent. He had been trying to get in touch withPoultney Illis for more than a fortnight, but his cables to London hadbrought no response.
"When did he arrive?"
"Just lately. He's a game old rooster, ain't he? Gee, he's sore!"
"Sore about what?"
Bulker winked again, with the same lack of muscular control.
"About that North Pass deal, of course. He was blackmailed out of acold million. The agreement's about up now, and I figure he's over hereto renew it."
"You're talking Greek," said O'Neil; but his eagerness was manifest.
"I s'posed you knew. The North Pass has been paying blackmail to theYukon steamboat companies for three years. When you built the line itpractically put 'em out of the Dawson market, understand?"
"Of course."
Now that Mr. Bulker's mind was running along well-worn grooves, hisintoxication became less apparent.
"Those Frisco steamboat men got together and started a rate war againstthe railroad; they hauled freight to Dawson by way of St. Michaels at aloss. Of course Illis and his crowd had to meet competition, and itnearly broke 'em the first two seasons. Gee, they were the mad ones!Finally they fixed up an agreement--had to or go bust--and of coursethe Native Sons put it over our English cousins. They agreed to restorethe old rate, and each side promised to pay the other a royalty of tendollars a ton on all the freight it hauled to Dawson and up-riverpoints. You can guess the result, can't you? The steamboat companieslet Illis haul all the freight and sat back on their haunches and tooktheir profit. For every ton he hauled he slipped 'em ten round Americandollars, stamped with the Goddess of Liberty. Oh, it was soft! Whenthey had him fairly tied up they dry-docked their steamboats, to savewear and tear. He paid 'em a thousand dollars a day for three years. Ifthat ain't blackmail, it's a first cousin to it by marriage."
"Didn't the Interstate Commerce Commission get wise?"
"Certainly not. It looks wise, but it never GETS wise. Oh, believe me,Poultney Illis is hopping mad. I s'pose he's over here now to renew thearrangement for another three years on behalf of his stock-holders.Let's have a dram." Bulker sat back and stared as through a mist at hiscompanion, enjoying the effect of his disclosure.
O'Neil was indeed impressed--more deeply than his informant dreamed.Out of the lips of a drunken man had come a hint which set his nervesto tingling. He knew Illis well, he knew the caliber of the Englishman,and a plan was already leaping in his brain whereby he might save theS. R. & N.
It lacked an hour of midnight when O'Neil escaped from Bulker andreached his room. Once inside, he seized the telephone and rang uphotel after hotel, inquiring for the English capitalist, but withoutresult. After a moment's consideration he took his hat and gloves andwent out. The matter did not permit of delay. Not only were his ownneeds imperative, but if Poultney Illis had come from London to conferwith his rivals there was little time to spare.
Remembering the Englishman's habits, O'Neil turned up the Avenue to theWaldorf, where he asked for the manager, whom he well knew.
"Yes, Mr. Illis is here," he was informed, "but he's registered under adifferent name. No doubt he'll be glad to see you, however."
A moment later Murray recognized the voice of Illis's valet over thewire and greeted him by name. Another brief delay, and the capitalisthimself was at the 'phone.
"Come right up," he said; and O'Neil replaced the receiver with a sighof relief.
Illis greeted him warmly, for their relations had been close.
"Lucky you found me," he said. "I'm going back on the next sailing."
"Have you signed up with the Arctic Navigation Company?" Murrayinquired; and the other started.
"Bless me! What do you mean?"
His caller laughed. "I see you haven't. I don't think you will, either,after you've talked with me."
Without the tremor of an eyelash Illis exclaimed:
"My word! What are you driving at?"
"That agreement over freight rates, of course."
The Briton eyed him for a moment, then carefully closed the doorleading from his sitting-room, and, seating himself, lit a cigar.
"What do you know about that matter?" he asked, quietly.
"About all there is to know--enough, at least, to appreciate yourfeelings."
"I flattered myself that my affairs were private. Where did you getyour information?"
"I'll tell you if you insist, although I'd rather not. There's nodanger of its becoming public."
Illis showed his relief. "I'm glad. You gave me a start. Rotten fix fora man to be in. Why, I'm here under an assumed name! Fancy! But--" hewaved his hand in a gesture which showed his acceptance of theinevitable.
"You haven't made your new agreement?"
"I'm to meet Blum and Capron to-morrow."
"Why didn't you take the S. R.& N. when I cabled you last month?"
"I couldn't. But what has that to do with the matter?"
"Don't you see? It's so plain to me that I can't understand how youfailed to realize the value--the necessity of buying my road."
"Explain, please."
"Gladly. The North Pass & Yukon is paying a fabulous blackmail to theriver-lines to escape a ruinous rate war."
"Right! It's blackmail, as you say."
"Under the present agreement you handle the Dawson freight and keep outof the lower river; they take the whole Tanana valley and lower Yukon."
"Correct."
"Didn't it occur to you that the S.R.& N., which starts four hundredmiles west of the North Pass and taps the Tanana valley, can be used toput the river steamers of that section out of business?"
"Let's have a look at the map." Mr. Illis hurried into an adjoiningroom and returned with a huge chart which he unrolled upon the table."To tell you the truth, I never looked at the proposition from thatangle. Our people were afraid of those glaciers and the competition ofthe Copper Trust. They're disgusted, too, with our treatment."
"The Trust is eliminated. Kyak harbor is wiped off the map, and I'malone in the field."
"How about this fellow Gordon?"
"He'll be broke in a year. Incidentally, that's my trouble."
"But I'm told you can't pass the glaciers."
"I can. Parker says he'll have the bridge done by spring."
"Then I'd bank on it. I'd believe Parker if I knew he was lying. If youboth agree, I haven't the slightest doubt."
"This is a bigger proposition than the North Pass, Mr. Illis. You mademoney out of that road, but this one will make more." He swiftlyoutlined the condition of affairs, even to the attitude assumed by theHeidlemanns; and Illis, knowing the speaker as he did, had no doubtthat he was hearing the exact truth. "But that's not all," continuedO'Neil. "The S. R. & N. is the club which will hammer your enemies intoline. That's what I came to see you about. With a voice in it you cancontrol the traffic of all central Alaska and force the San Franciscocrowd to treat the N. P. & Y. fairly, thereby saving half a million ayear."
"It's a big undertaking. I'm not sure our crowd could swing it."
"They don't have to. There's a quick profit of two million to be had byselling to the Trust next spring. You can dictate your own terms tothose blackmailers to-morrow, and then make a turn-over in nine months.It doesn't matter who owns the S. R. & N. after it's completed. Thesteamboat men will see their profits cut. As it is now, they can makeenough out of their own territory to haul freight into yours fornothing."
"I dare say you'll go to them if we don't take you up, eh?"
"My road has its strategic value. I must have help. If you don't cometo my rescue it will mean war with your line, I dare say."
Mr. Illis sat back, staring at the ceiling for a long time. From thestreet below came the whir and clatter of taxicabs as the midnightcrowd came and went. The city's nocturnal life was at its height; menhad put aside the worries of the day and were devoting themselves tothe more serious and exhausting pastimes of relaxation. Still thewhite-haired Briton weighed in his mind the matter of millions, whilethe fortunes of Murray O'Neil hung in the balance.
"My people won't buy the S. R. & N.," Illis finally announced. "ButI'll put it up to them."
"I can't delay action if there's a chance of a refusal. I'll have tosee Blum and Capron," said O'Neil.
"I'll cable full details within the hour. We'll have an answer byto-morrow night."
"And if they refuse?" O'Neil lit a cigar with steady fingers.
"Oh, if they refuse I'll join you. We'll go over the matter carefullyin the mean time. Two million you said, didn't you?"
"Yes. There's two million profit for you in nine months." His voice washusky and a bit uneven, for he had been under a great strain.
"Good! You don't know how resentful I feel toward Blum and his crowd.I--I'm downright angry: I am that."
Illis took the hand which his caller extended, with an expressionlessface.
"I'm glad I found you," confessed O'Neil. "I was on my last legs.Herman Heidlemann will pay our price when the last bridge-bolt isdriven home, and he'll pay with a smile on his face--that's the sort ofman he is."
"He won't pay if he knows I'm interested. We're not exactly friendlysince I sold out my smelter interests. But he needn't know--nobody needknow."
Illis called his valet and instructed him to rouse his secretary andring for some cable blanks.
"I think I'll cable, too," Murray told him. "I have some 'boys' upthere who are working in the dark with their teeth shut. They'rewaiting for the crash, and they'd like to hear the good news."
His fingers shook as he scrawled the name of Doctor Gray, but his eyeswere bright and youth was singing in his heart once more.
"Now let's get down to business," said Mr. Illis. "We'll have to talkfast."
It was growing light in the east when O'Neil returned to the HollandHouse; but he felt no fatigue, and he laughed from the pure joy ofliving, for his dream seemed coming true.