"You're involved? The estate is involved, eh?" Rod asked calmly. It seemed nowise incredible to him. It seemed, in fact, an entirely logical outcome—unlimited power in uncertain hands, increasing momentum, a grand smash. There was not a single element of the unexpected. He had anticipated such a finale. So had Phil.
"Not technically. Not yet."
"Very well. Let it smash," Rod said indifferently. "Let him pick himself up out the debris and take stock of himself. May do him good."
"If that were all. But it isn't so simple," his father sighed. "Don't you see, Rod? Our name, the prestige of the family, the confidence of the public in us as well-known, wealthy people has been the chief foundation on which this tottering Colossus was built. A great many people of whom we never heard, as well as our friends and families to whom we are related by blood and marriage, have put their money into this. It means loss to all, complete ruin to many, I'm afraid. If it were merely a question of Grove—"
He made a gesture of dismissal.
"But it isn't," he went on. "In the public eye and mind we stand or fall as a family. We have a reputation for integrity. If one of the family trades on that, the rest of us can't escape the consequences of his acts. I gave Grove his head and encouraged him, and I can't shirk my individual responsibility. I have no knowledge of a Norquay ever shirking an obligation. I'm an old man. I may not have many years left. I'll admit self-interest. I feel that I must straighten this thing out so that no one will ever say with an angry sneer that we saved our own skins after making a mess of theirs. The reason I asked you to come and see me to-night was to know if you will stand by me and help me see it through? It's got to be done."
"There's only one answer to that, isn't there, pater?" Rod said slowly. "I've outgrown any active antagonism toward Grove. It was more contempt than antagonism, except for the time he went out of his way to annoy my wife. At the same time I wouldn't lift a finger to save him from ever so hard a cropper. Only if you put it as something to be done for the family reputation—that probably means as much to me as it does to you. I'm willing to undertake anything I can handle. No use banking on me too strong, though. I don't know either business or finance."
"Half our wealth is in standing timber," his father replied, "and you know timber. Phil told me that you knew more of logging and loggers than he would ever learn. The woods will have to be our salvation. That will be your job, Rod. You've been through a hard mill. I wish you could have had a long rest. But this matter won't delay. I know law and I know something of affairs. I have had accountants checking up this infernal mess. Dorothy's husband has agreed to take charge. It will take nearly all our available capital to plug holes. The important end, the producing end, must be our timber. That I'll leave to you. We must begin operations at the first break in the weather. You'll have an absolutely free hand."
The ghost of a smile flitted across Rod's face. A free hand to ravage and destroy the forest to make money which would be poured like sand into a rathole! And he uncertain of any definite tenure on life. What of his heart? That overstrained, vital part of him,—which was organically perfect but functionally weak. A heart that was slacking up now, so that he rose and paced back and forth across the floor to stir it up.
"Well," he said at last, halting in his stride. "That's understood."