“Hold on,” said Stillings. “That is where we’re lame. We allowed ourselves to be sued in this cause, as we have in a good many others, under the old corporate name—The Red Butte Western. That, as you know, was a purely intrastate corporation. Our newer lines are only ‘extensions.’”
“Then we can’t carry it up to the Federal courts?” gasped Maxwell.
“We can try it, and, of course, we shall try it. But the presumptive facts are against us. What I am hoping is that our Pacific Southwestern backers will be able to help us make a killing and dump these pirates at the regular hearing.”
“Then you needn’t hope any more,” said Sprague quietly. “Apart from the fact that they’ve put the high kibosh on you to-day, the element of time comes in to cut the largest figure. For the stock-smashing purpose in this particular instance, a short receivership will prove as efficacious as a long one. You’ve had one experience with the steam-roller to-day, and you’ll have as many more of them as may seem necessary. It wouldn’t make any difference if you should import a train-load of eastern lawyers; the thing’s done, and it is going to stay done until it has accomplished the end in view—which is to transfer the stock control of the Short Line to the T-C. Your only chance is to strike back, and strike quickly—before the mischief is done in New York.”
“But how?” pleaded Stillings. “Tell us how!”
“By proving clearly, what I presume we all accept as the undoubted fact, that Judge Watson has been bribed.”
True to his calling, Stillings was the first to object to so sweeping a charge.
“Oh, hold on!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t go so far as that. That is a pretty serious charge, Sprague.”
“I know it is. But when I say bribery, it doesn’t necessarily mean the grosser form of buying with cash money. Let us say that Judge Watson has been ‘influenced.’ If you can’t make that charge and sustain it, you may as well call the incident closed.”
Maxwell was leaning against the door-jamb. His eyes were fiery and his breath was coming quickly.