“What concern did he buy of?”
“Oak Lodge Pulp Company.”
“Magnus Laurens’s outfit! They never tried anything of the kind on us before. It looks queer, does n’t it!”
“Worse than that.”
“But, see here, Andy. They can’t make that stick. Half a cent above market for that grade of paper—”
“Which grade? There’s the kink. Verrall’s tied us up on a special quality.”
“Good God!” said Jeremy.
He sat down heavily. A clean blotter on the desk offered him a field for calculations. For a few moments he busied himself with a pencil. When he looked up, his face was queer and drawn. Andrew Galpin waited.
“It’ll be a pull, Andy,” said Jeremy. “It’ll be a hell of a pull! It’ll suck the yolk right out of my surplus. But we can pull through yet if—”
“If what?” demanded the general manager, for his chief had stopped.