Goose-bone prophets foresaw the utter elimination of the North Star coming. It was a situation analogous to that of a great general ordering his heaviest guns to cease firing and retire at a time when petty strategists conceive that victory could be gained only by continued attack.
III
Hammond saw plainly enough now that through his deal on the train with Norman T. Gildersleeve he had tumbled in a small way into the vortex of big things, and he had a notion that for the next few weeks at least he was not going to suffer from monotony. Gildersleeeve must be in some manner financially interested, but no one with whom Hammond came in contact could throw any light on that phase of the situation. A man named Duff, of Toronto, they said, was president of the Kam City Pulp and Paper Mills, backed by international capital in which American financial interests held control. A man named Norman T. Gildersleeve had at one time been a big factor in the North, but he had long since been driven out of business in Canada by the irrepressible North Star. No, it couldn’t be he—he had surely had enough of “bucking” the North Star.
Hammond was bound to find out, if he could do so without arousing suspicion as to his interest in the matter. Perhaps Slack would drop some hint of Gildersleeve’s identity when he saw him.
But Slack did no such thing. Hammond was among the first to interview the politician on his return from Ottawa.
Hon. J. J. Slack, M.P., was a big man physically, handsome in a plump, comfortable way, urbane and pleasing of address—almost oily. His face registered acute surprise as he sat across the desk from Hammond in his private office reading Gildersleeve’s brief letter of introduction. He actually seemed to be trying to conceal great perturbation, but he made no comment, and to Hammond’s adroitly thrown out feelers for information regarding Gildersleeve he made guarded, unsatisfying replies. All of which is second-nature with a seasoned politician.
He did not call a stenographer, but scrawled out something on a letterhead and sealed it in an official envelope. Then he wrote a couple of words across the face of a card he took from a drawer of his desk and handed both to his visitor.
“I am delighted to comply with Mr. Gildersleeve’s request,” he observed. “In the envelope is a letter of introduction to Mr. A. C. Smith, superintendent for the North Star Company at the Nannabijou Limits, Mr. Hammond. The card is a pass which will take care of your transportation out on any of the tugs leaving our local docks this afternoon.”
He was pleasant and smiling about it, but his abrupt rising from his seat intimated that the interview was at an end. Hammond thanked him for his courtesy and hurried to the dock.