“Undoubtedly,” said Ames. “But I find the Catholic Church convenient––indeed, necessary––for the promotion of certain plans. And so I use it. The Colombian revolution, for example. But I shall abruptly sever my relations with that institution some day––when I am through with it. At present I am milking the Church to the extent of a brimming pail every year; and as long as the udder is full and accessible I shall continue to tap it. I tapped the Presbyterian Church, through Borwell, last year, if you remember.”
Willett, chief secretary to Ames, entered at that moment with the morning mail, opened and sorted, and replies written to letters of such nature as he could attend to without suggestions from his chief.
“By the way,” remarked Hood when he saw the letters, “I had word from Collins this morning that he had secured a signed statement from that fellow Marcus, who was crushed in the Avon mills yesterday. Marcus accepted the medical services of our physicians, and died in our hospital. Just before he went off, his wife accepted a settlement of one hundred dollars. Looked big to her, I guess, and was a bird in the hand. So that matter’s settled.”
“That reminds me,” said Ames, looking up from his mail; “we are going to close the mills earlier this year on account of the cotton shortage.”
Hood gave a low whistle. “That spells trouble, in capital letters!” he commented. “Four thousand hands idle for three months, I suppose. By George! we just escaped disaster last year, you remember.”
“It will be more than three months this time,” commented Ames with a knowing look. Then––“Hood, I verily believe you are a coward.”
“Well, Mr. Ames,” replied the latter slowly, “I certainly would hesitate to do some of the things you do. Yet you seem to get away with them.”
“Perk up, Hood,” laughed Ames. “I’ve got real work for you as soon as I get control of C. and R. I’m going to put you in as president, at a salary of one hundred thousand per annum. Then you are going to buy the road for me for about two million dollars, and I’ll reorganize and sell to the stockholders for five millions, still retaining control. The road is only a scrap heap, but its control is the first step toward the amalgamation of the trolley interests of New England. Laws are going to be violated, Hood, both in actual letter and in spirit. 107 But that’s your end of the business. It’s up to you to get around the Interstate Commerce Commission in any way you can, and buttress this little monopoly against competition and reform-infected legislatures. I don’t care what it costs.”
“What about Crabbe?” asked Hood dubiously.
“We’ll send Crabbe to the Senate,” Ames coolly replied.