"Certainly, certainly. Now, I haven't taken any active interest in them for several reasons until lately. Truth is things aren't going to suit me, and I have decided to take a hand myself."
"You have?" asked Clancy. "Well, you may own this club, but I'm d——d if you can run it while I'm manager."
"I'm not trying to run it, Clancy," replied the big man, unruffled. "Don't fly off that way. I just decided to use the owner's prerogative of consulting the manager."
"All right, Mr. Baldwin," replied Clancy, puzzled and mollified. "I did not know—you see it's a new idea—I didn't even know you owned stock."
Clancy was sparring for time in which to collect his thoughts, which were sadly scattered by the unexpected developments.
"Thought you might not be convinced," said Baldwin easily, "so I brought the documents along. Look over them and be convinced I own the club. They cost me a pretty neat pile, but I'm satisfied. You've made 'em pay me."
He tossed over the book of stock certificates, and Clancy, who owned a few shares of stock himself, realized their genuineness as he looked through them while planning his next move.
"I congratulate you," he said, handing back the forms. "I own a couple myself, so I know what they pay. Well, what have you to suggest, Mr. Baldwin? We're having a hard time winning this race, and if I seemed curt, blame it on worries. I have plenty."
"Naturally we all want to win," said Baldwin pompously. "Now, as to behavior, I'm told Swanson and Kennedy aren't behaving themselves."
"They're all right," argued Clancy, feeling from Baldwin's tone that he had not yet reached the point.