John resolved to watch the markets in future and learn some of the rules of the game; then he would venture in a small way, so that it did not matter whether he won or lost, and thus put his suspected hereditary abilities to the test. He was very sure from what he remembered of his uncle that the cautious old man had never plunged blindly into speculation. Unless he was very much mistaken, there had been nothing of the gambler about Dugald Steele. He surely amassed his wealth because of a well-informed belief in the continued progress of his adopted country, placing his money here and there where he believed it would secure the advantage of a rise in values. Thus the glow lamp of sweet reasonableness shed its mild rays upon the entrance of a path new to John Steele; a path which offered alluring vistas, but led into a wild and dangerous country—the path of speculation.
When Steele opened the door of the division superintendent’s room, Johnson, seated in the division superintendent’s chair, whirled round abruptly with the frown of high authority on his brow, apparently annoyed that any one should have taken the liberty of entering without knocking.
“Ah, Steele, it’s you, is it?” cried Johnson airily, neglecting to prefix the word “Mr.” which he would have used a week before. “How-d’e-do, how-d’e-do? When did you get back?”
“My train arrived just three minutes ago,” replied John Steele calmly. He closed the door behind him, and stood there, while Johnson remained seated, palpably uneasy, evidently determined to carry off the situation with an air of bonhomie. Mentally he had no doubt rehearsed it several times during the past few days, but the man now confronting him was not the anxious, worried individual who had left the chair he continued to sit in, or the genial, good-humoured youth of former years. For the first time in their intercourse Johnson saw before him the stern demeanour of one in authority, and inwardly he quaked, though outwardly he endeavoured to maintain the guise of airy indifference which appeared fitting for the encounter.
“You received Mr. Blair’s telegram, I suppose?” said Johnson at last, becoming more and more embarrassed by the frigid silence. Somehow the crisis was not evolving exactly as he had pictured it. He was de facto division superintendent, yet somehow this new, quiet man before him did not appear to recognise his elevation.
“Everything has gone right since I left, I take it; otherwise I should have heard from you,” remarked Steele, ignoring the question just put to him.
“Oh, yes,” said Johnson, “everything has gone smoothly. Look here, Steele,” cried Johnson in a burst of candour, “why didn’t you reply to the old man’s telegram? You know how touchy he is on questions of discipline. He very generously offered you the position I held, and you didn’t even take the trouble to acknowledge his kindness. I can assure you, John, it has been all I could do to keep the old man from promoting Car-ruthers into my place, but I succeeded in persuading Mr. Blair to take no further steps until you returned. I said I was sure you would have some satisfactory explanation to offer.”
“You were quite right; I have. And now, Mr. Johnson, you will reap the reward of your own kindness. The place you have so generously kept open for me I take pleasure in bestowing upon you; but in return for the counsel you have been good enough to give me, I warn you that unless I get a little better service than has been rendered for some months past you will not hold the position.”
Johnson threw back his head and laughed loudly.
“Steele, my dear boy, that’s a good bluff, but it won’t work. I have been made division superintendent by the general manager of this road. Mr. Blair and myself have both been very patient over your unauthorised desertion of your post, but I tell you frankly that my patience is at an end. I offer you the position which I formerly held. If you do not at once accept it, I shall call Car-ruthers in and give him the vacant place.”