The sky darkened, until we had to turn on the lights, and the rain fell more and more heavily. Once or twice there were jarring rolls of distant thunder. To me there was something boding and ominous in the weather. The day wore on interminably in the quiet of a business office under such a sky. Elkins sent in a telegram which he had received that no trouble with water was looked for along our way to Chicago, which was by the Halliday line. As the dark day was lowering down to its darker close, I went into President Elkins’s office to take him home with me. As I entered through my private door, I saw Giddings coming in through the outer entrance.
“Say,” said he, “I wanted to see you two together. I know you have some business with Pendleton, and you’ve promised the boys a story for Thursday or Friday. Now, you’ve been a little sore on me because I haven’t absolutely cut Cornish.”
“Not at all,” said Jim. “You must have a poor opinion of our intelligence.”
“Well, you had no cause to feel that way,” he went on, “because, as a newspaperman, I’m supposed to have few friends and no enemies. Besides, you can’t tell what a man might sink to, deprived all at once of the friendship of three such men as you fellows!”
“Quite right,” said I; “but get to the point.”
“I’m getting to it,” said he. “I violate no confidence when I say that Cornish has got it in for your crowd in great shape. The point is involved in that. I don’t know what your little game is with old Pendleton, but whatever it is, Cornish thinks he can queer it, and at the same time reap some advantages from the old man, if he can have a few minutes’ talk with Pen before you do. And he’s going to do it, if he can. Now, I figure, with my usual correctness of ratiocination, that your scheme is going to be better for the town, and therefore for the Herald, than his, and hence this disclosure, which I freely admit has some of the ear-marks of bad form. Not that I blame Cornish, or am saying anything against him, you know. His course is ideally Iagoan: he stands in with Pendleton, benefits himself, and gets even with you all at one fell—”
“Stop this chatter!” cried Jim, flying at him and seizing him by the collar. “Tell me how you know this, and how much you know!”
“My God!” said Giddings, his lightness all departed, “is it as vital as that? He told me himself. Said it was something he wouldn’t put on paper and must tell Pendleton by word of mouth, and he’s on the train that just pulled out for Chicago.”
“He’ll beat us there by twelve hours,” said I, “and he can do all he threatens! Jim, we’re gone!”
Elkins leaped to the telephone and rang it furiously. There was the ring of command sounding through the clamor of desperate and dubious conflict in his voice.