The boy nodded. “They mean that you will promise to hold to the rates of the last two years.”
“They don’t say so—”
“It means that,” said the boy.
Simeon nodded. “That’s what I make out. Well—I don’t do it—I don’t promise the C., B. and L. anything. You understand?—not anything!” He was glaring at the boy.
“Yes, sir.” He held out a hand. “I only wanted to make sure.”
Simeon handed him the letter. “The C., B. and L. is a big road,” he said. “They ’ve got smart men, but they can’t run the ’R. and Q.’—not yet.” He pointed to the words scrawled in the corner. “You write what I’ve marked there. Don’t let it go downstairs.”
The boy went back to his desk.
Simeon wrote with level brows, scowling at the paper before him. By-and-by he looked up. The boy, bending over his desk, had a troubled look. The president of the road watched him a few minutes in silence. He pushed back his papers. “Oh, John—?”
The boy looked up. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you worry about that. It gives them a chance to cut. But they’ve been doing it all along on the side. I have pretty clear proof they carried Thornton & Birdwell last year for six—five and three-quarters, part of the time, and a rebate besides.”