"By Jove, how game he was!" he said aloud. "I should hate to think there was anything crooked in him."
They had reached Forty-second Street in their smooth and rapid flight. There, newsboys were shrieking the latest extra, dodging under the heads of horses, swinging on the steps of surface-cars, bumping their shrill way through the crowd, with their hysterical instinct for heightening the effect of a sensation.
Gunther stopped the automobile and bought a handful of papers which a dozen urchins fought to press into his hands. On every sheet, front page, accompanied by sudden scare-heads, was the photograph of Bernard L. Majendie, whose resignation had been demanded and accepted.
The two scanned the pages for additional details. Some papers hinted at criminal actions—the district attorney had been suddenly summoned to town. Scattered through the sheets were photographs entitled, "Majendie's Palace on Fifth Avenue." "$100,000 Yacht of Deposed President." "Newport Estate of Millionaire."
"Is he a crook after all?" said Beecher, flinging down the extra.
"No, he is not a crook," said Gunther quietly, repeating the words with slow emphasis. "He is a speculator, a great speculator, and he has been made the victim of greater speculators who covet his territory. Then, there is this to be said: I doubt if at the present moment any great public corporation would face an investigation without alarm."
"What do you mean?" said Beecher, with his thoughts still wandering back to the handsome, stoic features of the Majendie of the night before.
Gunther began to speak, and, as he became serious and animated, Beecher followed him with surprise, noting the vigor and vitality that transformed the young idler.
"The present era we are passing through," said Gunther, "is probably America at its worst. We see only the gorgeous façades of things: the skyscraper, the industries that have developed into little kingdoms. We only try to comprehend statistics, and we are satisfied that we have bounded into greatness. As a matter of fact, the true test of the industrial greatness of a country is honesty. Dishonesty and graft are economic weakness—waste. A railroad that is spending a million a year to fight off hold-up state laws is by so much handicapped in its function of promoting commerce by low freight rates. A corporation that secures its franchise by bribing aldermen has taught them to blackmail in the future. It is difficult to say where the responsibility began—whether capital corrupted politics, or whether, in our unscientific political system, corruption was not inevitable."
"What do you mean by that?"