The Memoirs of an American Citizen Part 17

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_You aren't much troubled with scruples, Van!_"]

"I suppose so," Sloc.u.m replied solemnly. "But I always liked his sermons. Perhaps you and Carmichael could tone him down a bit just now."

"Oh, John don't mind his speeches, so long as he don't interfere with the business!"

We went out to lunch, and talked of other matters, and for several days I thought no more of the incident that Sloc.u.m had related. The switch-track business did not seem to me important. If the reformers wanted to get after us, or any other big firm, there were many more vulnerable points than that. Special privileges from the city we regarded as our rights. But there was the graft of railroad rates. Any fool could tell that, at the published tariff rates, there would be little business for the packers outside of Chicago. It was common knowledge that the trade was honeycombed with private agreements and rebate privileges, and that the fiercest part of the business was to get the right rate from the roads. Then there were the secret agreements between the packers, which were all illegal, but necessary to keep the trade from cutting prices all the time.

Carmichael attended to this end of the business for Dround, as he did of everything of real importance. He was a member of the firm now, and the wonder to me was that this smart Irishman could put up with Dround. It could hardly be a matter of sentiment with him. I had a warm feeling for the illiterate junior member, with a temper about an inch long, but a big, round heart open to any friend. He had bucked his way up in the world by main force, and I admired him. Besides, he had taught me how to eat, so to speak. In a word, I liked his way of doing things better than Mr. Dround's college talk.

Well, it happened that the cur Birdsell set some of the civil service reformers on the tracks of Brother Dround, and they got a smart newspaper reporter to work over the whole matter. There was a lively write-up in one of the papers, all about our switch-track over in Ada Street, with photographs and figures, and a lot more about the way the packers did business with the city. When I read the piece in the paper I took the trouble to pa.s.s by our new warehouse on my way to the office.

The trackage was in, sure enough. Carmichael was just the man to have a thing done and settled by the time the public got around to talk about it!

Mr. Dround was in his office bright and early this morning, and sent for me.

"Harrington," he began, "what do you know about this talk in the papers?"

Mr. Dround seemed very nervous, not sure of himself.

"Why," I smiled, "I don't know much more than what the papers said. Mr.

Carmichael, you know--"

"Yes," Mr. Dround interrupted impatiently, "Mr. Carmichael is in New York, gets back this morning; but I thought you might--" He hesitated, not wishing to admit his own ignorance. "I will send for you later when Mr. Carmichael comes in," he concluded.

So when John arrived he had us both in his office.

"You want to see me?" Carmichael asked gruffly, as if he hadn't much time that morning to waste on the senior member.

"Yes, I wish to talk over certain matters that concern us all, even though they may have no immediate bearing upon the business." Mr.

Dround always talked like that when he got the least nervous.

"Well, what is it?" Carmichael asked. He had just arrived, and I suppose his letters interested him more than Mr. Dround's talk.

"You may not have seen the articles in the morning papers--about--about certain privileges which it is alleged--"

"What are the boys yapping about now?" Carmichael demanded, taking up a newspaper from the desk and thrusting his shoulders forward in an ugly fashion.

"It concerns our permit to lay that new switch-track," Mr. Dround explained.

Carmichael laid the paper down and looked at the senior member in a curious way, as if he were trying to make out just what kind of a fool he had to deal with. But as he said nothing, Mr. Dround continued:--

"Recently I had occasion to deny categorically that, so far as I knew, our firm ever made any such kind of arrangement as is here described. My word was challenged. It was a very painful situation, I need not say.

Since then I have been thinking--I have been wondering whether this charge--"

He floundered pitifully, disliking to mouth the dreadful words. John helped him out brutally:--

"You wonder whether we had to grease anybody's paw about that switch-track over in Ada Street?"

Dround nodded. "The papers say so!"

"They have to print something, don't they? What harm does that do us? I wouldn't trust the whole d----n bunch of papers with a ten-dollar bill.

They're a lot of blackmailers--that's what they are!"

John bit off the end of a cigar and spat it out in front of Mr. Dround.

"We are not concerned with the newspapers or their motives, Mr.

Carmichael," the senior member observed with considerable dignity. "What I want is your a.s.surance that this firm--that, so far as we are concerned, this accusation is false."

We waited for the Irishman's reply. It would be an easy matter to tell a fib and set Mr. Dround's mind at rest. But Carmichael seemed to be in a specially bad temper this morning. When he went to New York he was accustomed to enjoy himself, and it was not the right time to badger a man just off the cars. Pretty soon John said fiercely:--

"It's my business to look after such matters?"

Mr. Dround nodded.

"Don't I do it satisfactorily?"

Mr. Dround waived this point.

"Well, I guess you'll have to be content with that."

"Mr. Carmichael," the senior member leaped to his feet, "you forget yourself! You will be good enough to answer me yes or no, to my direct question. Did you or did you not pay money for this privilege?"

Carmichael's voice shook as he replied:--

"See here, Dround! If you don't know your own business enough to know the answer, I don't see why I should tell you." His temper was going with every word he said. "But if you want to know, you shall! There hasn't been such a thing as a private switch-track put down in this city since you began doing business for less than seven thousand dollars. I paid the right people ninety-five hundred dollars for ours. There, you've got it! Now what are you going to do about it?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_I paid the right people ninety-five hundred dollars.

Now what are you going to do about it?_"]

The big Irishman plumped his two red fists on Mr. Dround's desk and glared at him. At that moment I pitied the old gentleman heartily; he was never born to do business, at least in our day. He seemed to shrivel up under Carmichael's words.

"How, may I ask," he said at last in a low tone, "was this done without my knowledge? How does it appear on the books?"

Carmichael laughed at the simple question.

"Charity! We are a very charitable concern!"

Mr. Dround's lips trembled, and he cried out rather than spoke:--

"No, never! Better to fail! Better to go bankrupt at once!"

He was talking to himself. Then he recollected us and said with dignity:--

"That is all, Mr. Carmichael. After this I shall attend to all such matters myself. Good morning, gentlemen."

He sat down at his desk, dismissing us. Carmichael was shaking with anger.

"No!" he cried, "it isn't all! Turn me out of your office like a boy, with my orders, when it's me that have stood between you and ruin any day these ten years! What would your business be worth if it weren't for John Carmichael? Ask Harrington here. Go out and ask your bank--"