“But you don’t know the business!”
The protest half invited discussion.
“I can learn it.”
“We don’t want a man to learn,” said Callender, speaking for the first time. “You must understand that, Atterbury! We can find men on every street corner who would like to learn. We want some one with a good working knowledge, who has had experience, and is familiar with our machines and our methods—one who can leave his family—and has capital—”
Atterbury shook his head. “No! You want a man like me, one who cannot only handle your machines, but handle men, and has had experience outside of your narrow line. Good heavens, Callender, the man you speak of—barring the capital—can almost be picked up at the street corners. Your house is full of such as he—good, plodding, trustworthy men, who understand what they have been taught about your machines and your accounts and your methods, and who understand nothing else; who stick to their desks year in and year out. Will one like that do for you? You know that it will not! Granted that I don’t know the business as you do—that’s but a detail; I know what business really is. Granted that I’ve got no capital—I’ve got the one thing you really need, and that’s the brains and energy to get it for you. Take me into your conferences, give me a fighting knowledge of what you want, and I’ll bring in the capital.
“The export trade has a tremendous future; my mind’s been full of it lately. You send me to South Africa—to China—to the Philippines, and I’ll undertake to double the business in three years, but you mustn’t confine yourself to one narrow line; you must broaden out. You ought to be able to distance all your competitors; you ought to be able to merge them in your own company. For many reasons I can be worth more to you than any other man you know. Great Scott, Nichols, can’t you see that I’m the opportunity you want?”
Nichols sat immovable, holding on to the arms of his chair with both hands. Facing the light of Atterbury’s face, the answering light shone in his own. Callender still objected, although plainly under great excitement.
“You haven’t managed your own affairs so well.”
“No,” said Atterbury, turning on him like lightning, “and you know why. You know just what claims the death of Anderson laid upon me, and how I’ve tried to carry them. They will be paid off now. Callender, you’re not worth my powder and shot; you’re just talking. Mr. Nichols, I’m speaking to you. You know I can handle this thing!”
Both men rose unconsciously and looked at each other, with a long breath between them.