"Excuse me, Mr. Dracott, but you can't buy the plant at any price."
"Eh? Why can't we?"
"Because the majority of the stock will vote to fight you to a standstill."
"But, my dear sir! Mr. Farley controls sixty-five per cent. of the stock!"
"That is where you were lied to one more time," said Tom with great coolness. "The capital stock of Chiawassee Limited is divided into one thousand shares, all distributed. My father holds three hundred and fifty shares; Mr. Farley and his son together own four hundred and fifty; and the remaining two hundred are held in trust for Miss Ardea Dabney, to become her property in fee simple when she marries. Pending her marriage, which is currently supposed to be near at hand, the voting power of these two hundred shares resides in Miss Dabney's grandfather, and my father holds his proxy."
This was the thunderbolt Tom had been forging during those quiet days spent on the mountain side; and there was another pause while one might count ten. After which the man from New York spoke his mind freely.
"Your row with these people must be pretty bitter, Mr. Gordon. Are you willing to see your father and these Dabneys go by the board for the sake of breaking the president and his son?"
"I know what I am doing," was the quiet reply. "Neither my father nor Miss Dabney will lose anything that is worth keeping."
"Have you figured that out, too? The field is too small for you down here, Mr. Gordon—much too small. You should come to New York."
Tom rose and took his hat.