Part 71

“I suppose our proxies run to the clerk of the corporation, as usual, with full power of substitution, clerk to follow instructions,” said Mr. Fogg, a bit pompously, using his complete knowledge of corporation routine.

“Yes, sir. We handle most of the corporation meetings that way when it's all cut and dried. In this case, it's simply a re-election of the old officers.”

“Exactly!”

Mr. Fogg pulled his chair closer, dabbed his purple handkerchief on each side of his nose, and inquired, kindly and confidentially: “My son, what's your name?”

“David Boyne.”

“Law student here--secretary, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Exactly--and a long, hard pull ahead of you. It's too bad you're not in New York, where a young man doesn't have to travel the whole way around, but can cut a corner or two. I could give you a lot of examples of bright young chaps who have grabbed in when the grabbing was good.

“But I haven't the time. You take my word for it. I'm a plain, outspoken business man, and I'm in with the biggest financial interests in New York. And I'm going to offer you the grandest opportunity of your life right now, David.”

He picked up his certificates and arranged them in one hand, as a player arranges his cards.

“I have here ten shares, say, and each share is owned by a different individual--all good men. You don't know them, but I do. They are connected with our big interests. And I'm right here as a stockholder. Do you realize, David, that instructing you to hold this meeting without a single stockholder present is really asking you to do something that's not strictly legal?”

“We usually do it this way,” faltered Boyne.

“Exactly! Men like those who are running the Vose line are always asking an innocent man to do something illegal. I'm going to come right to the point with you, David. Those old moss-backs who have sent those instructions are trying to wreck the Vose line. I want you to disregard those instructions. I am anxious to be president and general manager of the line. I want you to elect as directors these stockholders.” He tapped his finger on the certificates.

The young man was both frightened and bewildered. He turned pale. “I can't do that,” he gasped.

“Yes, you can. There are the proxies. It's up to you to vote 'em as you want to. They allow full power of substitution, usual fashion!”

“But I can't disobey my instructions.”

“I say you can, if you've got grit enough to make a good thing for yourself.”

“Such a thing was never done here.”

“Probably not. It's a new idea. But new things are being done right along in high finance. You ought to be up where big things are happening every day. You stand in with me, and I'll put you there. You see, I'm getting right down to cases on this matter with you, David. Vote those proxies as I direct and I'll hand you five thousand dollars inside of two hours, and will plant you in a corking job with my people as soon as this thing calms down. I could have palavered a long time before coming to business in this way, but I see you're a bright young fellow and don't need a lot of hair-oil talk. I don't ask you to hurt anybody in especial. You can elect the old treasurer--we don't want to handle the money--this is no cheap brace game. But I want a board of directors who will put me in as general manager until certain reforms can be instituted so as to bring the line up to date. Five thousand dollars, mind you, and then you'll be taken care of.”

“But I'll be put into state prison.”

“Nonsense, my boy! Why would you vote those proxies according to your instructions? Why, because it would be for your interest to do so if I hadn't come in here with a better proposition. Now it's for your interest to vote 'em as I tell you. The most they can make out of it is a breach of trust, and that amounts to nothing. With five thousand dollars in your mitt, you wouldn't need to hang around here to take a lot of slurs. I'll slip you another thousand for your expenses on a little trip till the air is all clear.”

Boyne stared at this blunt and forceful tempter; his hand which clutched the chair-arms trembled; “I'm going to be still more frank with you, my boy. And, by the way, you must know that I'm no mere four-flusher. You've heard of Fletcher Fogg, eh? You knew who I was when you got that wire from me yesterday?”

“Why, yes, I know of you through our corporation work, sir.”

“Exactly!” Mr. Fogg assumed even more unctuously the manner of an old friend. “Now, as I say, I'm going to be frank--take you in on the ground floor. Of course, they can have another--a special meeting of the Vose line after a thirty days' notice to the stockholders. They will probably call that meeting, and I don't care if they do. But I have an ambition to be general manager of the line for those thirty days to make--well, I want to make a little investigation of general conditions,” declared Mr. Fogg, resorting to his purple handkerchief. “That's all I care to say. At the end of thirty days we may--I'm speaking of the big interests I represent--we may decide to buy the line and make it really worth something to the stockholders. You understand, I hope. It's strictly business--it's all right--it's good financiering. After it's all over and those old, hardshell directors wake up, I'll venture to say they'll be pleased all around that this little turn has been made. In the mean time, having been taken care of, you needn't mind whether they're pleased or not.”

Boyne looked at the sheaf of certificates in Fogg's hand; he bent frightened gaze on the documents stacked on the desk. They lay there representing his responsibility, but they also represented opportunity. The sight of them was a rebuke to the agitated thoughts of treason which assailed him. But the mere papers had no voice to make that rebuke pointed.

Mr. Fogg did have a voice. “Five thousand dollars in your fist, my boy, as soon as I can work the wire to New York--and there's no piker about the man who can have five thousand flashed in here when he asks for it. You can see what kind of men are behind me. What do you care about old man Vose and his crowd?”

“There's Mr. Franklin! I'll be doing a mighty mean trick, Mr. Fogg. No, I'll not do it.”

Mr. Fogg did not bluster. He was silent for some time. He pursed his lips and stared at Boyne, and then he shifted his gaze to the ceiling.