A man with a happy, round red face leaned over the side and said, “You can’t see Mr. Landon.”
“Why?”
“He’s hurted.”
“Bad?”
“Purty bad.”
When the “Daily Broker’s” extra edition came out with the elaborate account of the distressing accident to Mr. Landon, there was excitement in Wall Street. Naturally the Van Swells, while deeply deploring the accident to the estimable old Yankee, were elated at the prospect of his being unable to vote at the election which would take place in three days.
The “Daily Broker” told how the old man had gone, against the captain’s protest, upon the hurricane deck when the ship was rolling, had slipped and fallen down the narrow ladder, broken his left arm and three ribs. These wounds, the paper said, were not necessarily fatal, but it was thought by the ship’s doctor—who being slightly deaf talked very low, as deaf people do—that the venerable New Englander had sustained serious internal injuries.
Nearly every one had left the steamer when Miss Landon came down the gangway, followed by four stewards carrying her father, who, being rich, was attended by the ship’s surgeon. Miss Landon was bewildered by the crowd of brokers, reporters, and friends assembled at the steamer. She had never dreamed that the Landons were of such importance. Her aunt took little note of anything, being obliged to pinch herself to see whether she still lived. The ship’s surgeon, appreciating the importance of his patient, refused to allow even the most intimate friends of the injured man to speak to him. He went with them to their hotel and remained until another physician could be called. The new doctor was worse, if anything, than the ship’s doctor. This was a severe blow to the solicitor, who knew better than to try to get to his client via the daughter.
On the following day Miss Landon persuaded the doctor to allow her father’s old business partner and neighbor from Gloucester to see the sick man. Landon’s mind was still wavy, but in the course of a half hour’s talk the visitor made it pretty clear to the injured man that if the Van Swells got control of the road, in which they were deeply interested, they would be likely to be squeezed out; if not, the road, under such incompetent management, would be sure to lose money.
“It’s Kate’s money,” said the sufferer. “She railroads all the time, let her use her judgment,” and it was so agreed.