VI
It was in the third week of Mr. John Marshall Ward’s vigorous campaign of education that Walter Scott Campbell, in his office in New York, tossed the last of the letters he had been answering to his stenographer and rang for his secretary.
A pale young man entered and waited respectfully for the magnate to look up from the newspaper clippings he was scanning.
“Parker, where the deuce did you get this stuff?” Campbell asked.
“They came in our usual press clipping service. Your order covers the better papers in the larger towns where you have interests. It’s not often I find anything worth showing you.”
“Well, don’t let me miss anything like this!” replied Campbell with a chuckle.
He unfolded a page that had been sent complete, being indeed the society page of the Kernville Morning Journal of the previous Sunday. Campbell chuckled again, much to the relief of the pale secretary, who feared he might have brought to his employer’s attention some news of evil omen. Campbell continued to read, chuckling as he rapidly turned over the cuttings.
“You look a little run down, Parker,” he remarked affably. “A change of air would do you good. Give Miss Calderwood my calendar of appointments and any data I may need in the next few days, and take the first train for Kernville. Study this stuff carefully and find out what it’s all about. There are some resolutions from the Kernville Chamber of Commerce about a site for a steel casting plant. Curious about that! Must have been a leak somewhere. We discussed possible locations in that secret conference at Pittsburgh last week, but Kernville wasn’t mentioned. But that town, with its water power, might possibly be just right. Give it a looking over, but be very guarded in all your inquiries. And learn all you can about these Wards, father and son.”
“Yes, Mr. Campbell,” and Parker glanced at his watch.
“Mrs. Ward is an old friend of Mrs. Campbell—you understand. There’s an old attachment and an obligation, as I remember. Mrs. Ward was exceedingly kind to Mrs. Campbell back in their school-days when my wife was ill. She has never forgotten it.”
“My inquiries as to the Wards are to be made in a sympathetic spirit? I understand, sir!”
“We are scheduled to stop at Kernville for a day on our way to California—is that right?”
“Yes, Mr. Campbell. Your car is ordered attached to the Transcontinental Limited leaving at five twenty-one on Tuesday, February seventeen.”
“Take several days to this investigation. Learn what you can of these people, the town itself and so on. All this whoop and hurrah out there is unusual. Most amusing thing that’s turned up since they wanted me to go out to some town in that neighborhood and preside at a barbecue. What place was that?”
“Scottsburg, Indiana, during the campaign of 1916,” replied the invaluable Parker.
“A great people, those of the Middle West,” remarked Mr. Campbell reflectively. “As the phrase goes, you’ve got to hand it to them. That’s all, Parker.”
Mr. Elwell Parker had frequently played the role of confidential investigator for Walter Scott Campbell, and established the following evening at the Kipperly House he began his labors with his usual intelligence, thoroughness and discretion. Within twenty-four hours there was little pertaining to the Wards, the social or business conditions of Kernville that he did not know. Twenty-four hours more sufficed for his complete enlightenment as to the thriving city’s advantages as a manufacturing point, the value and possibilities of its water power, and the financial and moral status of its leading citizens. He thereupon wrote a report, condensed it with faculties that had been trained in the ways of Walter Scott Campbell, and then imparted it by telephone to the magnate.
The famous Campbell chuckle rewarded the secretary several times. The idea that the son of his wife’s quondam schoolmate was shaking the foundations of Kernville to bring the inhabitants to a realization of the high condescension of the Walter Scott Campbells in visiting their city with resulting benefits to the firm of Ward & Ward, tickled Walter Scott enormously.
“Very good, Parker! Come back at your convenience. Subscribe for the local papers in your name. We don’t want to overlook anything!”