"If you worry—and it's quite absurd that you should—your value automatically decreases. Has it occurred to you that, from now on, the importance of your position is vastly increased? We shall look to you more than ever. I dare not worry—there's too much to be done. You were our advisor, now you are our protector against unfair attack—and there'll be lots of it. What's more, Bowers, you are the only one who is sure of his money."
Bowers nodded. He began to feel more comfortable.
"What's going on in St. Marys?"
"Nothing much yet—they don't know what to get ready for. Filmer and the rest are sending out accounts they hope to collect, a good deal of property is on offer without any takers, but, at the bottom, I don't think the town is rattled. There's a sort of feeling that the works are too big to be wiped out."
Clark smiled gravely. He was aware that to the townsfolk the works had become part of the landscape, and, imaginatively, not much more. But just as they could not contemplate the obliteration of part of the landscape, so it was difficult to conceive permanent idleness at the works. It was a case of the immobility of the non-speculative mind, which is lethargic in hours of exaltation but comfortably steadfast in times of stress.
"Listen," he said earnestly. "There's an element in Ironville which may soon have to be controlled by force; but as to St. Marys what you've got to do is to spread the feeling that there's nothing like confidence to maintain business. Can't you see that if your office were knee deep in writs it doesn't affect you? You've got to remain the efficient, smoothly working, impersonal machine. So have I—and so has every one who takes the responsibility for the actions of those of lesser intelligence. Leaving out first and second causes—we're all doing just what we're meant to do, and it doesn't matter who or what meant it. Wimperley and the others will be up here soon, and regard me as a crazy idealist who inveigled them into building a house of cards. The heads of departments—at least some of them—will look at me and wonder how it was that I gave them any confidence in the future. Hundreds of creditors will consider me personally responsible because they have to wait for their money, and about two thousand Poles and Hungarians will want to kill me to gratify their sense of personal injury. On top of that, ninety-nine men out of a hundred will forget all about my seven years' work, and that I started with nothing, and will point to the Consolidated as an excellent example of misdirected energy. For a little while little men will smile with commiseration and say 'He did the best he could,' but," and here Clark's voice deepened, "only for a little while. Now, friend Bowers, where do I stand with you?"
Bowers got up and paced the terrace irresolutely, glancing now and then at the motionless, gray clad figure in the wicker chair. He was suddenly and profoundly moved. In the past he had seen but one side of Clark, and this sudden depth of feeling was startling. He knew that if he still took his chief as the crowd took him, Clark would not apparently be affected in any degree, but would only classify and finally put him away with his own kind.
"Don't think for a moment I'm making any appeal," went on the steady voice. "It really doesn't matter whether you believe in me or not. There's just one thing supremely important at the present time, which is my belief in myself. That's my anchorage—it always has been and will be. I don't consider that we owe each other anything, but just the same I would like to know where you place me."
Bowers had a swift vision of what he was seven years ago, and set it against what he was now. Then, with full consciousness of the complete confidence that was placed in him by Clark, he turned and held out his hand.
"I place you," he said a little jerkily, "just where you want to be placed."