into the afternoon?"

"I'll let you know later. Good-by."

And later it was arranged to suit Mr. Murch. If there were a pie in Mr. Murch's vicinity which Mr. Murch's finger was not in, it was, if not proof positive, strong circ.u.mstantial evidence that the pie was of a most inferior order of succulence; and Mr. Murch was a fairly good judge, being himself chairman of the finance committee of the United States Pie Company. He was a director in two banks, three trust companies, several railroads, at least four mining companies of the immensely profitable kind whose stock is never offered to the general public, besides innumerable industrial and general commercial concerns of every sort, color, and description, the sole similarity between them being their translucent money-making attributes. He was, on the other hand, a trustee of an art museum which was liberally a.s.sisted by contributors other than Mr. Murch, whose a.s.sistance was administrative rather than pecuniary; and he was on the executive committee of a charity organization society which under his astute management bade fair to be more than self-supporting, and there was really no valid reason to the contrary, for it transacted a very considerable business in sawed and split wood which it sold at current prices after paying each of its unfortunate employees twenty-two cents and an indescribably bad dinner for eight hours' hard work in the wood yard. Mr. Murch was also interested in a chain of blue-front restaurants, and a line of South American freighters, and last but not least, he was the heaviest stockholder and most potent factor in the management of the Salamander Fire Insurance Company.

The Salamander was as exactly the ant.i.thesis of the Guardian as it was possible to conceive. Where the Guardian was conservative, the Salamander was ultra-radical; where the Guardian wrote a million and three quarters yearly in premiums, the Salamander, though its surplus was rather less than that of the other company, wrote nearly two millions and a half. In short the Salamander gambled, and played to win, and as a matter of fact it usually did win by sheer audacity. It had never made any money out of its underwriting, that real test of company efficiency; but four years out of five the daring manipulation of its a.s.sets in Wall Street--politely termed the slight rearrangement of some of its investments--yielded it a handsome profit. Its dividend rate was more than twice that of the Guardian, and in some years, when losses were heavy, it failed to earn its dividend and was obliged to take the money for its payment out of its already narrow surplus.

The President of the Salamander was an obliging, disingenuous, rather weak individual of Mr. Murch's own selection. His name was Wellwood, and the less said of his character and attainments the better. Mr.

Wellwood's mastery of the conditions of his business had never been especially deep, and during the past year a swelling penchant for fast horses, and indeed for acceleration of all kinds, had rather gotten the better of him. And Mr. Murch, concernedly going over the figures which showed the present condition of the Salamander's finances, felt a chill of doubt striking into his usually impa.s.sive veins.

"You've been losing money for the company faster than I can make it,"

he said coldly to Wellwood.

"Well, it's been an awfully bad year--losses have been terrific,"

stammered the underwriting executive, anxious to placate the G.o.d of his car.

"They're all bad years with you. Leave these papers with me; I want to go over them again."

Wellwood slunk out. The presidency of the Salamander, involving as it did occasional interviews of a nature similar to this with Mr. Murch, was no sinecure. Mr. Wellwood frequently debated whether it would not be better to listen to the siren voices of the agricultural weeklies with their alluring refrain of "back to the soil"; but the facilities for his favorite dissipations were painfully inadequate in the rural districts, and besides he was a city man born and bred, and while he knew how to take hold of a shovel, he would probably have stood askance and aghast before a scythe. So he hung on, hoping against hope for something--almost anything--to happen. To be sure his own comparative incompetence was to blame for the company's underwriting record, but that was a matter beyond his control.

It was perhaps an hour after Mr. Wellwood's departure when the card of another caller was brought to Mr. Murch by the efficient office boy.

"Show him in," he said.

A man in a light fall overcoat entered the room, nodding to the capitalist as he did so, but turning back almost immediately to attend to the cautious closing of the door.

"Sit down, won't you?" said Mr. Murch, carelessly. He raised his eyes to the door. "Anybody out there?" he inquired. "I mean any one that knows you?"

"No," the caller replied.

"Well, it doesn't matter about any one but Wellwood. But it would be better not to have him know anything about your having been here."

"Why? What do you care?" queried the other.

"No need of superfluous friction and unpleasantness, that's all. If we--agree, he'll find out everything soon enough; if we don't, no call to excite him."

"No doubt you're right," a.s.sented the visitor, lightly. He had by this time removed his overcoat and laid it over the arm of a convenient couch. He then selected a chair near Mr. Murch's own but facing that gentleman squarely, and sat down.

"Well, I'm ready to talk business," he said.

"And I," rejoined the other, easily. But he made no move to begin.

After a strategic pause wherein it was made clear that he was determined not to open the conversation, his caller began to speak.

"Looking over the figures, I see," he suggested.

"Just running through them. They don't seem so bad, on the whole--in fact, rather better than I expected. Wellwood hasn't done so badly this year, after all, considering how heavy the losses have been all over the country--especially in the South."

The other did not reply. Each man fully understood that the other was temporizing, hoping to gain whatever advantage might accrue from letting the other make the initial play. But Mr. Murch was the older and the less nervous, and had himself better in hand. Finally the visitor spoke.

"Well, I don't suppose you sent for me merely to tell me that," he said abruptly. "Go ahead--make your proposition; there's no use beating about the bush between us." He picked up an ornamental paper cutter from the capitalist's desk and examined it with exaggerated care.

Mr. Murch took his time. He reflectively bit the end off a long cigar, and reached for a match box.

"I'm not sure that my mind's sufficiently made up to put a definite proposal up to you," he said, striking the match thoughtfully. "As I say, Wellwood hasn't been doing so badly--comparatively. And it hurts a company to make a change in its presidency--it disturbs the whole organization, especially when an outsider is brought in over the heads of all the subordinates. We have several promising men that might be disaffected by such a move. No, I don't believe I'm decided, at this time, on such radical action."

"Then I'll come again, when you do decide," said the other, and promptly rose to his feet.

In essence all this very much resembled the way an Algerian curio merchant conducts a bargain.

"Still, it would do no harm to talk the situation over a little to-day," suggested Mr. Murch.

The other man sat down again.

"Look here," he said, "you know what I'm here for. You're looking for a man to take charge of the management of the Salamander. You've looked into the affairs of the company and you know there isn't any one in that office--Wellwood or any of his understudies--that really knows his business. Now you think I'm the man you want, but it's your opener. It's for you to say what you expect done, and how much you'll give to get it done. You tell me that, and I'll tell you first whether I think I'm able to do it, and second whether I'll take it at your price."

For Mr. F. Mills O'Connor was sufficiently shrewd to antic.i.p.ate that the presidency of the Salamander would be an empty honor unless it could be gained on terms which would free its inc.u.mbent from the immediate yoke of Mr. Murch. O'Connor did not intend to be a second Wellwood, with Old Man of the Sea Murch riding him to the grave.

The wisdom of his outspoken decision was proven by the altered tone in which the capitalist now said:--

"All right, Mr. O'Connor. No time like the present. We'll go into it."

And for nearly two hours they went into it. They discussed the subject of fire insurance from top to bottom; the amount of premium a company could safely accept in comparison to its resources, lines in conflagration districts, reinsurance treaties, relations with various unions, boards, and conferences, and underwriting in its relation to finance.

"So far as I can gather--and it's the general impression," said the Guardian official, "the Salamander has lost most of its money in the big cities. And you know as well as I do that the hope of making any money for the company consists in the chance of getting a profitable business from such cities as New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, and St. Louis. I don't believe your five-year record shows a dollar's profit from any one of those places, yet nearly every well managed company has taken good money out of them. Wellwood knows it. He knows the kind of business he gets doesn't pay, but he doesn't know where or how to get the kind that does pay."

"Perhaps that may be so," agreed Mr. Murch, cautiously.

"Well, I do know where to get it," rejoined his visitor, "and I also know--what is much more vital and to the point--_how_."

"And how is that?" inquired his host with innocent curiosity.

"When you've made your proposition, I'll tell you," said the other, with a smile. "I'll amplify at the proper time."

"Oh, very well, then," replied the capitalist, apologetically. "Very well." But at this last sticking point he temporized again. His caller gave him no help, but waited in silence until he was ready.

"Mr. O'Connor," said Mr. Murch, "I have a high opinion of your underwriting ability. It is pretty well understood that you have had immediate charge of the underwriting of the Guardian for some years past, and they have been much more profitable years for your company than for ours."

He paused.

"The figures show that," said the other man.

"I do not conceal from you the fact that we are not wholly satisfied with Mr. Wellwood's operations. I have talked the matter over unofficially with two or three of my fellow directors, and I believe they would ratify officially the offer which I am going to make you.

This offer is made upon certain agreements, restrictions, and presumptions. It is made contingent on your ability to carry out these agreements--in short, to deliver the goods."

"I understand," said O'Connor, with composure.

"The offer of which I speak is based on your taking the presidency of the Salamander, with a five-year contract, at a salary of twenty thousand dollars a year. You will be required to purchase as a matter of good faith--backing your entry, as it were--a certain amount of the company's stock; indeed, I presume you would wish to do so, and that is a feature that can be easily arranged. And we, of the Salamander, want a man qualified to turn the company into a money maker, and who can a.s.sure us at the same time of a reasonable increase in our premium income--say in the five years, from two and a half up to three millions."

O'Connor smiled rather cynically.