"Robert Fisher is no financier," struck in Stoughton wearily.
Wimperley smiled in spite of himself. "Perhaps not, but he mesmerized us into that office. There's only one thing I can see—issue debentures secured by first mortgage."
"Who'll take 'em? We used up all our arguments long ago. Philadelphia doesn't want a mortgage on Robert Fisher, and what about the Pennsylvania farmer?"
"What about him?" asked Wimperley pettishly.
"As I know him, he's a bad loser—he works too hard for it. This is a case of new money from outside, and I for one don't feel like doing any traveling."
"In other words we've demonstrated that whether or not by any fault of ours, we've made a mess of it," said Stoughton with utter candor.
"Something remarkably like it."
"And when Clark told us, months ago, that he wouldn't draw any salary, and that a lot of others were only drawing half salary to help out till the rail mill got going, we should have made provision for possible mistakes, and seen as well that we were getting in over our ears."
"But Clark believed all he told us," piped Riggs with a flash of loyalty.
"Of course he did, and he still does, and because he is still only twenty years ahead of his time he's all the more dangerous."