“No. Davis has repeated his declaration to do nothing without orders from your father.”
She nodded. “Very well,” she said, “then it is over. We are beaten—Father is beaten for the first time. It makes little difference, I suppose. If he—if he is taken from us, nothing else matters. But I hoped you . . . never mind. I thank you, Mr. Paine. You would have helped him if you could, I know.”
Somehow this surrender, and the tone in which it was made, stirred me more than all else. She had trusted me and I had failed. I would not have it so.
“Miss Colton,” I said, earnestly, “suppose—suppose I should go ahead and make this fight, on my own hook. Suppose I should give Davis the 'instructions' he is begging for. Have I permission to do it?”
She looked at me in surprise. “Of course,” she said, simply.
“Do you mean it? It may mean complete smash. I am no railroad man, no stock manipulator. I have an idea and if this trouble were mine I should act upon it. But it is not mine. It is your father's—and yours. I may be crazy to risk such a thing—”
She stepped forward. “Do it,” she commanded. “I tell you to do it. If it fails I will take the responsibility.”
“That you shall not do. But I will take the chance. Phin!”
“Yup; here I be.”
“Send this message at once: 'Try your hardest to get hold of any shares you can, at almost any figure in reason, before the market opens. When it opens begin buying everything offered.' Got that?”