An ashen grey crept into Grady’s face.
“What do you mean?” he faltered. “You are not a shareholder of record on our books.”
“No, but you will find as shareholders of record the names of Charles T. Brown, George Edward Reed, Herbert Levy, Daniel W. Higbee, and a few others about whom I need not bother.”
A new light broke over Grady. He looked more sickly than ever.
“These are recent purchasers of stock,” he said, “in New York and also, if I remember rightly, in Iowa.”
“Precisely, and together these buyers now hold the controlling interest in your company. Here are the legal documents constituting me the attorney for all these men.” He drew a neat little packet of papers from the breast pocket of his coat. “In other words I am these men—I hold the controlling power, although I did not choose to disclose the fact until this morning. Now, will you please let me pass? Thank you.”
If a pistol had been thrust against the ribs of W. B. Grady, he could not have looked more utterly scared. He had stepped aside to let the Major pass and now bluff and bluster changed swiftly to sycophancy.
“All right, Major Hampton,” he said, in his most ingratiating manner. “Walk right in and let me introduce you to some of the other stockholders. Of course, only a few of them are here.”
The Major followed him into the directors’ room and was duly presented.
“This,” said Grady with patronizing suavity, “is an old fellow townsman of ours here in Encampment and a friend of mine. Here, Major, take this chair,” insisted Grady. “You see we are all a happy family together.”