"In there, eh?" said the man, and without further parley with b.u.t.tons, he entered the room indicated, closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile Porter and McNally in the other office were discussing probabilities and possibilities and thinking of a good many others which neither of them cared to discuss, though all were in their way pleasant.

Suddenly they were interrupted by the apparition of b.u.t.tons. His eyes were rounder than ever, and his white hair looked as though some one had tried to drag it out of his head.

"Please, sir," he gasped, "Mr. Thompson wants to see you right away."

Porter jumped to his feet and fairly ran out of the room. As he turned into the hall a m.u.f.fled uproar greeted his ears, and it made him hurry the faster. But McNally stayed where he was. He, too, heard the strange noise, but he felt that he would not be able to do any good by going in there.

McNally did not "come out strong" amid scenes of violence. His heart troubled him.

It was not more than five minutes before Porter came back. His face was a study.

"They're raising h.e.l.l in there," he said. "Weeks's judge has just served an injunction that kicks Thompson and Wing and Powers off the board.

Thompson just curled up,--he was almost too scared to breathe,--and Wing seemed to be having some sort of a fit. There was one idiot up on the table yelling that the meeting was adjourned and trying to give three cheers for Weeks." (It was the man with the telegram.)

"Well," said McNally, "what's going to happen next?"

"I don't know," said Porter, breathlessly. "I don't see that anything can happen. As things stand now there isn't a quorum of directors and all the officers are suspended. The road can't do business."

Suddenly he leaned forward in his chair and exclaimed:--

"By George, if that road doesn't need a receiver, no road ever did.

Telephone Judge Black quick. We'll get in ahead of Weeks this time."

There was no delay in finding the Judge. Porter had indicated to him the advisability of keeping himself on tap, as it were, and he was now prepared to settle with neatness and despatch the legal affairs of his employers. Before dark that afternoon he had regularly and with all necessary formality appointed Frederick McNally to be receiver for the Manchester & Truesdale Railroad Company.

But it was significant of Jim Weeks's foresight that the road already had a receiver, for at that very moment he had in his pocket an order from Judge Grey appointing Harvey West to that position.

CHAPTER IX

THE MATTER OF POSSESSION

The M. & T. terminal station at Manchester was in reality two buildings.

From the street, it looked like an ordinary three-story office building, except that there were no stores on the street level. Instead, the first floor was taken up by two large waiting rooms, the ticket office, and a baggage room. Entering through the big doorway in the centre, you ascended a few steps, pa.s.sed through the waiting room, then up some more steps and across a covered iron bridge which spanned a narrow alley. This bridge connected the station proper with the train shed.

The offices of the company occupied the two upper floors. The same stairway that led to the bridge doubled on itself and zigzagged up the rest of the way. As you reached the second floor, the office of the Superintendent was before you, across the hall. To your right were large rooms occupied by various branches of the clerical force, while to your left the first door bore the word "Treasurer," and the second was lettered "President." The Treasurer's office was a large room, cut off at the rear by a vault which contained the more valuable of the company's books and papers: the main vault was downstairs. A narrow pa.s.sage between the vault and the part.i.tion led to a small window which overlooked the train shed and the alley. On one side of this pa.s.sage was the vault entrance, on the other was a door which had been cut through the part.i.tion into the President's private office.

Early on Monday morning, after a brief survey of the various officers and a few words with the Superintendent, Harvey a.s.sumed the direction of the road and established himself in the President's room, while a big deputy sat at the desk in the outer office. The night before, at the Illinois House, Jim and Harvey had talked until late, discussing every detail of the situation. Jim had gone over the fight of Sat.u.r.day, winding up with a few words of advice.

"We'll have trouble," he said. "Porter isn't going to let things slip away any easier than he has to. The safe plan is to suspect everything and everybody. Keep everything in sight. I'll be here to help, but from now on you represent the road."

Harvey arranged the desk to suit him, then he opened the small door behind him and crossed the pa.s.sage. The vault door was open, but a steel gate barred the way. A key hung by the window, and as Harvey unlocked the gate and swung it open, a bell rang. He examined the shelves, and noted that the books were in place. He knew that the possession of those books meant practically the possession of the road.

Reentering his office he found the deputy standing in the other doorway.

"Gentleman to see you, Mr. West," said the deputy. "Won't give his name.

Says it's important."

"Show him in," Harvey replied.

The deputy stepped back and made way for a quiet-looking man who was even larger than himself. The newcomer closed the door behind him.

"Mr. West," he said, "Mr. Weeks ordered me to report to you. I'm Mallory, from the Pinkerton agency. I have three men outside. Have you any instructions?"

Harvey checked a smile. It reminded him of the stories of his boyhood. But in a moment it dawned upon him that if Jim thought the situation so serious, he must be very careful.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "Put one man near the vault--here"--he opened the small door--"let no one go into the vault without my permission. Then you might put one man in the hall--somewhere out of sight--and one outside the building. You understand that there may be an attempt to get possession of the books. Do you know any of the C. & S.C. men--William C.

Porter, or Frederick McNally?"

The detective shook his head.

"Well, then, just keep things right under your eye, and report every hour or so."

The detective nodded and left the room. A little later Harvey opened the side door, and saw a man lounging in the pa.s.sage, looking idly out the window.

Shortly after ten Jim came in to talk things over. He told Harvey that the C. & S.C. people had a counter move under way, but he was unable to discover its nature. He had seen McNally in company with a number of men who did not often leave Chicago. "He'll be up here, yet," Jim added prophetically; and he went out without leaving word. "Don't know how long I'll be gone," was all he would say; "but you'll see me off and on."

Ten minutes after Jim's departure McNally appeared. Harvey heard his voice in the outer office, then the deputy came to Harvey's desk.

"Mr. Frederick McNally," said the official. "He asked for the Superintendent first, and I sent him in to Mr. Mattison, but he sent him back to you. Will you see him?"

"Yes," replied Harvey. "And you may stay in the room."

The deputy held open the door, while McNally entered.

"How are you, West?" he said brusquely. "There seems to be some confusion here. The Superintendent disclaims all authority, and refers me to you."

"Sit down," said Harvey, waiting for McNally to continue. Evidently McNally preferred to stand.

"I wish to see some one in authority, Mr. West."

"You may talk with me."

"You--are you in authority?"

Harvey bowed, and fingered a paper-weight.

"I don't understand this, West." He glanced at the deputy. "I wish to see you alone."

For a moment Harvey looked doubtful, then he smiled slightly, and nodded at the deputy, saying,--

"Very well."

"Will you tell me what this means?" asked McNally, when the door had closed.

Harvey looked gravely at him and said nothing.