"Gentlemen,"—it was the clear, crisp voice of the man at the head of the table that interrupted; he spoke in a tone somewhat different from that in which he habitually addressed his clerks and his brokers, but he spoke as suddenly and with all the authority that he used toward them—"if the M. & N. comes into New York, it will not take one-half of one per cent. of the profits away from our other roads. For all but its last thirty-two miles, the new line taps territory new to us, and the new stock will have paid for itself, and have paid a profit too, in five years."
Rivington and Hallett looked at each other. The latter took his cigar between his fingers and folded his arms.
"What do we care?" he asked, but his tone had lost the assertiveness that had marked it a moment earlier. The man at the head of the table did not answer this question directly. He proceeded:
"Except for ourselves, most of the old stockholders are poor people. They need the money, and the old holders are to have the first chance at the new issue. In five years, then, the minor stockholders will have realized a profit on their investment; so shall we. At that time we could unload without hurting anybody but the officials that have defied us. Always supposing," he added, "that the management observe a proper economy."
Hallett's eyes burned.
"You're right," he said. "We can win both ways if we do that. The road will be bankrupt, and we can buy it in."
The man at the head of the table did not smile. He only said:
"You have always been very naïve, Hallett; but I did think you would have seen this point sooner."
Rivington at length cut in:
"But the cost of getting the bill through the legislature——"