“That has all been anticipated,” observed young Morton. “The president of Blackberry Traction is a member of my club; we belong in the same social set. I foresaw his opposition, and I've provided for it; I have, really! McGinty and Doloran, you say? The names sound like the enemy. Please post me if those interesting individuals move for our disfavor.”
And now we went to work. Whatever was demanded of the situation as it unfolded found prompt reply, and in the course of time Mulberry Traction was given its franchise. The Blackberry at one crisis came forward to work an interruption; the sudden hot enmity of McGinty and Doloran was displayed. I gave notice of it to young Morton.
“I'll arrange the matter,” he said. “At the next meeting of the Board I think they will be with us, don't y' know.”
It was even so; and since Big Kennedy, with my aid, discharged every responsibility that was his, the ordinance granting the franchise went through, McGinty and Doloran voting loudly with the affirmative. They were stubborn caitiffs, capable of much destructive effort, and their final tameness won upon my surprise. I put the question of it to young Morton.
“This is the secret of that miracle,” said he. “The president of Blackberry has been a Wall Street loser, don't y' know, for more than a year—has lost more than he could honestly pay. And yet he paid! Where did he get the money? At first I asked myself the question in a feeling of lazy curiosity. When I decided to organize our Mulberry Traction, I asked it in earnest; I did, really! I foresaw my friend's opposition, and was seeking a weapon against him. Wherefore I looked him over with care, trying to determine where he got his loans. Now, he was the president, and incidentally a director, of the Confidence Trust Company. I bought stock in the Confidence. Then I drew into my interest that employee who had charge of the company's loans. I discovered that our Blackberry president had borrowed seven millions from the Trust Company, giving as security a collection of dogs and cats and chips and whetstones, don't y' know! That was wrong; considering his position as an officer of the company, it was criminal. I made myself master of every proof required to establish his guilt in court. Then I waited. When you told me of those evil symptoms manifested by McGinty and Doloran, I took our president into the Fifth Avenue window of the club and showed him those evidences of his sins. He looked them over, lighted a cigar, and after musing for a moment, asked if the help of McGinty and Doloran for our franchise would make towards my gratification. I told him I would be charmed—really! You know the rest. Oh, no; I did not do so rude a thing as threaten an arrest. It wasn't required. Our president is a highly intellectual man. Besides, it wouldn't have been clubby; and it would have been bad form. And,” concluded young Morton, twirling his little cane, and putting on that look of radiant idiocy, “I've an absolute mania for everything that's form, don't y' know.”
CHAPTER XV—THAT GAS COMPANY INJUNCTION
YOUNG MORTON was president of Mulberry Traction. When the franchise came sound and safe into the hands of Mulberry, young Morton evolved a construction company and caused himself to be made president and manager thereof. These affairs cleared up, he went upon the building of his road with all imaginable spirit. He was still that kid-gloved, eve-glassed exquisite of other hours, but those who dealt with him in his road-building knew in him a hawk to see and a lion to act in what he went about. Big Kennedy was never weary of his name, and glowed at its merest mention.
“He's no show-case proposition!” cried Big Kennedy exultantly. “To look at him, folks might take him for a fool. They'd bring him back, you bet! if they did. You've got to see a party in action before you can tell about him. A mudscow will drift as fast as an eight-oared shell; it's only when you set 'em to goin' endwise, an' give 'em a motive, you begin to get onto th' difference.”