Followed a little silence and the long thin fingers of Birch began an intermittent tap on the polished table. Presently Wimperley glanced up and smiled dryly. He had not known that Birch understood the Morse code. "Birch has told you," he said.
Stoughton and the rest looked puzzled.
"We can't pay a dividend if we let Clark build this railway."
"Then why build it?"
"Clark claims it is necessary to secure a dependable supply of spruce for the pulp mills, and hard wood for the veneer works. He reckons it will cost two million, and says the Government will help—but perhaps they won't." He broke off, rather red in the face.
"Do any of you fellows remember Marsham?" put in Birch quietly.
Stoughton looked up. "Only too well, what about him?"
"Well, you know he's been gunning for me for years since that Alabama scrap in which he got knocked out. Now he's gunning for all of us."
"Why?" demanded Wimperley.
"Because I have the present privilege of being associated with you. I had it privately from perfectly reliable sources. Marsham's looking for a hole in the Consolidated, and if he finds one he's going to get busy and you know what that means. So far we're all right because we've got the Dutch farmer behind us and his money is coming in, in a good steady trickle. It's our job to keep it trickling till we get out of the woods into which our prophet has led us."