In the buzz of delight that ensued, Mr. Opp found himself standing on a chair and demanding attention.
“Listen here,” he cried, pounding on the wall with his hand, “I’ve got important information that’s got to be told: that man Clark is a rascal. He’s—he’s deceiving his company. He’s been paid to make a good report of our ground. I can’t prove it, but I know it. We’re taking part in a fraud; we’re—we’re being manipulated.”
Mr. Opp almost shrieked the last word in his agony of earnestness; but before the crowd could fully apprehend his meaning, Mr. Mathews rose and said somewhat sharply:
“What the representative of the Union Syndicate is, or is not, doesn’t concern us in the least. I come to you with a gilt-edged proposition; all I ask you is to sit tight, and take my advice, and I guarantee you an immediate [p288] return of seven dollars to every one you put into this concern. Mr. Chairman, will you put it to the vote?”
But Mr. Opp again stopped proceedings. “As a director in this company I won’t stand for what’s going on. I’ll telegraph the syndicate. I’ll advertise the whole matter!”
Mat Lucas pulled at his sleeve, and the preacher put a restraining arm about his shoulder. The amazing rumor had become current that the Cove’s stanchest advocate for temperance had been indulging in drink, and there was nothing in the editor’s flushed face and excited manner to contradict the impression.
“If by any chance,” Mr. Mathews went on in a steady voice, “there should be a stock-holder who is unwilling to take advantage of this magnificent offer, we need hardly say that we are prepared to buy his stock back at the amount he gave for it.” He smiled, as if inviting ridicule at the absurdity of the proposition.
“I am unwilling,” cried Mr. Opp, [p289] tugging at the restraining hands. “I have never yet in all the length and breadth of my experience been associated with a dishonest act.”
“Don’t! Mr. Opp, don’t!” whispered Mat Lucas. “You’re acting like a crazy man. Don’t you see you are losing the chance to make three thousand dollars?”
“That hasn’t nothing to do with it,” cried Mr. Opp, almost beside himself. “I’ll not be a party to the sale. I’ll—”