"Lawson," he said, "here's the whole story. Stillman has been steadily at work and has just finished two copies of the entire subscription. I think you ought to look it over."
"Look it over," I repeated. "Why, it is of the utmost importance to the whole enterprise that I study every name. I alone can tell just what that list means. After I've been over it I'll know pretty thoroughly who will hold, who will want to sell, who must sell, and who will need encouragement."
"That's just what I thought," he answered, with an air of high approval. Then, dropping to his most friendly and confidential key, the tone of voice that never fails to persuade an associate that he is in on the bottom floor and that all others are outsiders, he went on: "And more than that, Lawson, why cannot you get in touch with all those subscribers who are disappointed at the amounts they received and sell them what they want?"
Mr. Rogers leaned back to appraise the effect of this startling proposition on me. At any other moment I should inevitably have broken loose again, but the fascination of his personality was upon me and I let him spin his webs. Any man, and there are scores adrift, who falls under the spell of Henry H. Rogers, invariably, as did the suitors of Circe, pays the penalty of his indiscretion. Some he uses and contemptuously casts aside useless; others he works, plays, and pensions; still others serve as jackals or servitors and proudly flaunt his livery; a few, the strong, independent souls, tempted with great rewards and beguiled by the man's baleful, intellectual charm into his clutches, preserve a semblance of freedom; but let the boldest of these turn restive—he is maimed or garroted with sickening promptitude.
CHAPTER XXXII
PERFECTING THE DOUBLE CROSS
To get back to my story. I realized that though one disaster had been averted, I was far from any haven of rest. Remembering my cue, however, I asked innocently:
"Have you all decided to sell more of the stock, Mr. Rogers?"