Mr Golden sat at his end of the table and listened. He sat there very straight, his little mouth set in a soft line of pseudo-firmness. His small hands drummed on the table and his eyes glanced about the room. His eyes were always in motion. The fear of a thousand years was in Mr Golden’s eyes.
From time to time he interrupted. Mr Heywood would pause and listen; then, when the other had finished, he would continue in his gentle voice to tell the others what clever men had told him about Steel, and the men, whose livings depended upon him, listened respectfully to their ideas.
Mr Murphy observed these things as he sat in his chair. He felt less important in these conferences but he did feel secure. Here in the boardroom he felt himself to be a part of something large and opulent—of American Business. This thought was comforting as well as sobering. There was no security in the world to equal that of belonging. It made no difference to what one belonged just as long as one was a part of something big and secure. And what, Oliver Murphy asked himself, could be bigger or more secure than Business? He saw these things clearly because he had a philosopher’s mind and the Celt’s ability to envisage life in a clear perspective. He could, he knew, see the trees as well as the forest. That was what made him different from the others. They felt, perhaps, that they belonged, but he knew.
Then the ulcer began to bother him.
He no longer was conscious of Mr Heywood’s voice. The only thing of importance now was the dull pain in his stomach. He moved uneasily in his chair. He pushed a hand into his stomach. This helped a little. The pain shifted slightly. He followed it with his hand, his fingers pressing gently into the pain.
“We’ll want complete figures on the rise and fall of Arizona Zinc during the past five years.”
This was said by Mr Heywood. It registered in Mr Murphy’s mind but he didn’t respond for a moment.
“You’ll have those figures for us next meeting, won’t you?” Heywood asked, irritation in his voice.
“Certainly, Mr Heywood,” said Murphy. He sat up straight and Mr Heywood nodded to him and then continued to talk.
Oliver Murphy listened carefully to everything said. He was beginning to sweat from the pain and the fear (more fear than pain, he told himself) but still he strained to hear every word and, slowly, as he listened, magic took place and the pain went away.