Mr. T. Acton Blair rose to his feet with that majesty of bulk which pertains to corpulent men. It was an action which usually overawed a subordinate.
“I think you are making a mistake, sir, regarding our relative positions. I am general manager of the Manateau Midland, and as such have a right to be informed of every important event pertaining to the road.”
“Your definition of the situation is correct. Both you and Mr. Rockervelt should have been told of the narrow escape of the express.”
There was a glitter as of steel in the keen eyes of the superintendent, while the inflated manner of the manager underwent a visible change, like a distended balloon pricked by a pin. Mr. Blair knew well the danger to himself and his vaunted position if the event under discussion came to the knowledge of the great autocrat in New York, so he tried to give his surrender the air of a masterly retreat.
“Well, well, Mr. Manson, I don’t know but you were right. The less such things are talked of, the better. They have a habit of getting into the papers, and undermining public confidence, and we should all try to avoid such publicity. Yes, you did quite right, so we will let it go at that.”
“And how about Mr. Steele?”
“After all, Manson, he is in your department, and you may do as you please. I should rather see him go, but I don’t insist upon it. Good afternoon, Mr. Manson.” The great man took his departure ponderously, leaving Manson somewhat nonplussed. As soon as the door to the corridor closed behind Blair, the door to Manson’s secretary’s room, which had been ajar during this conversation, flew open, and the impetuous Steele came rushing in.
“Excuse me, Mr. Manson,” he cried, “but I was waiting to see you, and I could not help hearing part of what you and Mr. Blair said. I did not intend to listen; but if I had shut the door it would have attracted attention, so I didn’t know what to do. I suppose he told you we had a head-on collision, round a curve, with no signals out.”
The young man tried to carry it off jauntily with a half nervous laugh, but Manson’s face was sober and unresponsive.
“It was all my fault, and you had warned me before,” continued Steele breathlessly. “Now you stood up to the old man for me, and made him back water; but I’m not going to have you get into trouble because of me. I’ve discharged John Steele. I’m going in now to Mr. Blair, and I’ll apologise and resign. I’ll tell him you warned me to quit rushing round, and that I didn’t quit. I’m sorry I telescoped him, but not half so sorry as that I’ve disappointed you.”