“You face him—or Simeon Tetlow,” John said. “You take your choice.” He moved back from the door and the man stepped toward it. He opened it quickly and went out. The sound of his footsteps, hurrying as if pursued, died away in the outer loft.
The young man stood for a moment looking thoughtfully at the disordered desk. Then he gathered up the papers and returned the ledger to its place. He locked the desk and turned off the blaze of light before he opened the windows. He stood looking down at the city in the mysterious night. Then he threw himself on the couch and slept till the morning.
XVI
SIMEON was tearing open his morning’s mail, fussing and growling. “There ’s another—” He tossed it to John.
The young man read it without comment. It was from the farmers of Elk Horn County—the second within a month—accusing the road of keeping back cars to force up rates.
“They’ve had their share,” grumbled Simeon from his mail.
“More, too,” said John. He scowled his brow a little. “No. 8 brought in thirty-five empties yesterday,” he said slowly.
Simeon wheeled a little, “Where to?”