"John."

It was the first time Gorham had ever addressed him by his Christian name, and this fact, together with the tone in which it was spoken, aroused a novel sensation in the younger man. He took the outstretched hand, and accepted the friendly pressure, conscious of a feeling not altogether pleasant.

"John," Gorham repeated, "you and I are the only ones who can save the Companies to its stockholders. We have a tremendous responsibility thrust upon us."

"But you won out," Covington exclaimed, amazed that Gorham seemed not to have comprehended his words. "Everything is all right."

"Everything is all wrong," the older man corrected, his eyes flashing with a fire at variance with his general bearing. "Of course I won out, but that is the least of my concern. My life-work bids fair to be a failure, unless you and I together can build this structure over, using material which this time will prove strong enough to withstand the unholy strain of money, money, money. Of course I won out, because they dare not risk my antagonism; but I have failed--miserably failed--in my efforts to instil into those a.s.sociated with me the basic principles of a successful altruistic business. Oh, the pity of it! The greater the returns the greater the greed, and their blindness in killing the goose which lays the golden egg! But in you, John, at least, I have a tower of strength."

Covington found himself being rapidly forced into an equivocal position.

No one knew so well as he that the present conditions were the direct result of his skilful and persistent manipulation, yet the result of this first issue had not been what he had foreseen. In fact, it had turned out better than he had expected, in that Gorham now leaned on him as his sole support. Yet it was dangerous, Covington realized, to be placed where he could be accused of carrying water on both shoulders, so he hastened to put himself on record, midway between the two factions.

"They had no idea that you laid so much stress on the moral side, in your own mind--" he began.

"How could they have known me at all and thought otherwise?"

"The whole scheme of the Consolidated Companies is so unusual that perhaps it isn't to be wondered at. What you consider to be unwarranted is a recognized business method in other corporations."

"Why do you tell me this?" Gorham demanded, suddenly.

"Because I feared that you had overlooked it, in the heat of the argument, and some sort of a compromise is of course necessary."

"Compromise?" repeated Gorham, questioningly. "I don't follow you."

"Why, you've carried your point, and proved your strength, but you have divided the Companies into two camps. Of course something must be done to conciliate. By Jove! that was an arraignment you gave them!"

"There can be no conciliation, Covington," was the firm response; "there can be no compromise. The Consolidated Companies either is what it is, or it is nothing. The pledges which I have made from the beginning shall be lived up to in spirit and in letter, or the final exercise of the strength which they all are forced to admit shall be again to separate it into its integral parts, and prevent it from undoing that which I have already accomplished through its agency."

"That is a large contract for any one man to undertake," Covington remarked. "No individual has yet been able to disintegrate a successful going corporation when the stockholders and the directors were opposed to it."

"We are talking of unusual things," Gorham replied. "No individual before has been able to found so mammoth or so successful a corporation as the Consolidated Companies. No individual before this has found himself strong enough to force the immediate capitulation, against their wills, of so powerful an Executive Committee. With these precedents before me, I state my determination not as a threat, or as a boast, but as a fact."

"Are you counting on the stockholders for support?"

"Absolutely."

"You will find them as unanimously against you as you have just found the committee."

"Do you know this?"

"They all know it; they would not have taken their position otherwise.

Next time, the stockholders will be put in evidence."

Gorham again became silent. This second shock, following so soon after the first, for a moment paralyzed his power to think, but he quickly recovered his optimism.

"I do not believe it--I will not believe it. But why do you tell me this?" he again asked. "There must be some purpose behind it all."

"There is. It is necessary for you to realize the exact position we are in. Your work has been with those about to become stockholders, or with the consolidations; I have been brought in personal contact with the stockholders and the directors. You have met the ideals, while I have come face to face with the actualities. For this reason I tell you that you are undertaking a more serious campaign than you realize, and I also tell you that, strong as you are, compromise and conciliation will eventually be required."

"Do I, then, stand alone?"

Covington resented the suggestion.

"There should be no question in your mind as to where I stand," he said.

"My personal relations with you, and my hope of an even closer relationship, make any discussion unnecessary. But I see the situation from a viewpoint which you cannot, and my duty clearly demands that I express myself to you with complete frankness. I do not suggest that you give up your ideals--I simply urge you to compromise with them in order to win greater victories in the future."

"Covington," replied Gorham, with decision, "you know how much I value your judgment, how firmly I rely upon your loyalty. Because of this, I shall move with even greater care than so serious a crisis as this inevitably demands. Yet it is only fair to say to you now that I can see but one outcome. There are many conflicts which arise in life which admit of compromise--but you cannot compromise with truth, with virtue, or with honor. These attributes either exist, or they do not--there are no half-ways. Suppose you do a little thinking, too, along my line. Then we'll join together, taking advantage of this new knowledge which has come to us, and force the issue where we see the necessity. We are both trying to accomplish the same results, but are considering different routes. Think it over, my friend, and I feel sure that you will see that I am right."

His interview with Gorham left Covington with certain well-defined conclusions: Gorham would never yield one iota from his position, and his a.s.sociates would not rest until they had wiped out this affront they had received. It would be necessary for him to take sides openly with Gorham or else make definite sacrifices. Yet he must hold the position he now had with the directors so as to be Gorham's successor in case the affair turned in that direction; and, most important of all, he must fortify himself still further against the breaking of the storm, which he knew would sooner or later come upon him.

In military conflicts there are various methods of winning a victory.

When the adversary appears too strong for a direct battle, a skilful tactician will sometimes weaken the enemy's strength by a rear attack.

Covington was a skilful tactician, and in the present crisis the affidavits he had stored away in his safe-deposit drawer tempted him sorely. He had never expected to use them, he told himself. He had never expected to be placed in opposition to Mr. Gorham. With the family alliance he contemplated, there would seem to be no occasion for conflicting interests to exist between them. But if Gorham insisted on making a fool of himself, there was really no good reason why Covington should allow himself to be dragged down with him. It was infinitely wiser to be in the position of "heads I win, tails you lose." Surely he could not be accused of selfishness in the matter, when, if Mr. Gorham were eventually dethroned by the directors, and he, Covington, crowned in his place, it would simply result in keeping the Consolidated Companies still in the family. And as for Gorham's silly threat to disintegrate the corporation--that was too absurd to be considered seriously.

So Covington again inspected the papers which Levy had secured for him.

The one which related to Mrs. Buckner and the prospector he laid aside at once as too contemptible to be considered, but the other interested him. Gorham was setting himself above other men who held enviable positions in the business and social world. If this affidavit was true--and Covington saw no reason to doubt its authenticity--this demiG.o.d might hesitate to emphasize his superiority. With the legality of his marriage questioned, his Czarship might be weakened; and this, as Covington saw it, meant advantage to himself in the Consolidated Companies, and an insurance against any att.i.tude Gorham might take against him. With Brady vowing vengeance, his part in unloading the railways stock on Alice might at any time be uncovered. With the present strained relations between Gorham and the Executive Committee, his confidential relations with both sides might prove disagreeable. But with Gorham himself entangled in a domestic complication, serious consequences to himself from such a catastrophe might be averted, or, at least, mitigated. And, best of all, Levy was quite ready to proceed in the matter with Buckner as his client. Surely Opportunity never offered herself with more brazen coquetry to any one than she did to John Covington.

All this resulted in a busy afternoon for Lawyer Levy. Covington returned the affidavit to him and left him free to proceed or not, as he saw fit. Levy's delight was unbounded--"it was such a nice case."

Buckner was quickly summoned to the lawyer's office and a new agreement drawn between them, which gave special joy to Buckner, as it meant an increased supply of money and a renewed lease of life in New York City, which he had learned to "love." Besides the agreement, he was asked to sign a letter to Mrs. Gorham, which had been carefully worded by Levy and was filled with lurid descriptions of his affection and loneliness.

He had accidentally become aware of the fact that their separation was not legal, and the unexpected knowledge had served to revive in him all the fondness of the early days. He had mastered the curse of drink which had brought about their estrangement, and needed her companionship and care. He regretted the inconvenience which it might occasion, but Mr.

Gorham had everything while he had nothing but the affection which he felt for her--and that as she was now, and always had been his wife, he demanded his rights.

Levy had known men to change their minds, and in order to prevent any such misfortune he despatched the letter by special messenger early in the evening. Gorham had returned late and betook himself to the library immediately after dinner to consider the new business complications with great care before grappling with the situation on the following day. He was still meditating when he was surprised to see Eleanor enter the room, with an expression on her face which at once made him forget his own perplexities.

"Why, Eleanor!" he cried, "what has gone wrong with you?"

Mrs. Gorham took her favorite seat on the arm of her husband's chair, and he drew her to him.

"I saw Ralph Buckner while out driving a few weeks ago," she said in response to his question. "It unnerved me at the time, and I have been apprehensive ever since. I did not tell you about it, as there seemed nothing on which to base my fears, and you were so occupied. I hesitate even now to add to your burdens, but this letter has just come, and you should see it."

As she spoke she placed the open letter in his hand, and he read it carefully.

"There can be nothing to this--can there?" she asked, her lip trembling and her whole expression showing how eagerly she awaited his answer.

"Eleanor," he said, softly, drawing her onto his lap, and soothing her with the tenderness a mother would have shown an anxious child. He held her pressed closely to him for so long a time in silence that at last she became frightened She sat upright and, placing a hand on either shoulder, regarded him searchingly.

"Robert," she cried, aghast, "you don't believe--"

Then he told her the news which James Riley had brought him, and of his efforts to learn more.

"No, dear, I don't believe it," Gorham finally answered her unfinished question. "No power on earth could make me believe it until they proved it; and even then no power could take you from me."

"But it must be proved one way or the other."

"There will be no need," Gorham replied, with a lightness he did not feel; "I will find this man and will settle it for all time."

"How will you settle it, Robert?"