Part 69

His visitor departed, and he got on to the Philadelphia wire with the curt information that two million dollars had been secured from the Ontario government, and asked permission to continue work. Simultaneously the news spread like a forest fire. The militia found there was nothing to contend with. Merchants surveyed their looted stores and swore vengeance, but in a modern Arcadia one cannot arrest two thousand foreigners. There were blocks of buildings with fronts smashed in; dangling knots of wires; prostrate electric light poles; scattered stones and bolts and shivered fences, but the rioters, to a man, were back, dandling their babies and waiting for the morrow. It was as though a hurricane had blown fiercely through the town, and then died over the encircling hills. And in the bank office Brewster was thoughtfully reading two telegrams from Thorpe, one commending his attitude for the past few weeks, the other authorizing him to credit the Consolidated account with two million dollars.

A few days later Wimperley and Birch arrived. It was their answer to Clark's suggestion that work be continued without delay and, as usual, he quite correctly interpreted the manner of their reply. His energy had saved the situation which it had created, but, in spite of this, there was a new spirit in the financial circles of Philadelphia. He was dubbed a dangerous man. He was, they considered, too swift as well as too hypnotic. To continue to identify themselves with his undertakings was deliberately boarding a runaway train. Added to this, the interlinking of companies which had been presumed to be a factor of strength was now shown as an element of weakness. When one lost money, all lost it.

When Wimperley, unfolding his mind steadily and without interruption, told Clark that the old régime was at an end, the latter, at first, was not much impressed. But gradually the case became clearer.

"I don't say we don't trust you," he said, "but candidly, we're afraid of you. Just two things are needed to secure the operation of the works,--new money and new management; and it's possible the new crowd won't want you. Philadelphia has been sucked dry so far as concerns us."

"Any suggestions?" put in Clark quietly.

"Not yet. We're in correspondence with London people, and they'll probably come out. When they do," continued Wimperley, eying the other man meaningly, "we'll turn them over to you."

"Is that it?" The voice had a profundity of meaning.

Wimperley nodded. "I thought you'd understand. You got us in, and now you've got to pull us out."

"And pull myself out too," said Clark dryly. "Thanks."

"Would you prefer that the works stay idle with you or get busy without you?" interjected Birch pointedly.

"When it comes to that--if it does--I'll let you know. In the meantime--?"

"Don't turn a wheel except for town utilities, and now we'd like to see Bowers. You probably don't realize what we've been through in Philadelphia. Consolidated isn't what you'd call gilt edged just now, and the corners are knocked off our reputation as business men. I just mention this in case you feel aggrieved."

Clark grinned suddenly. "I'm not worrying either about my stock or my business reputation. Your difficulty is that you don't see why any one else should pull through where we didn't."

Wimperley nodded. "There's something in that. What we've got now is the job of making Consolidated stock worth something--by earnings. It means cutting out the dead wood--our own dead wood, and I don't fancy the contract. It hurts to chop down the tree you helped to plant--but it's the only way out of it. There will probably be months before this machine will start up again, and move toward permanent success."

A day or two afterwards the two directors went back to Philadelphia, where they reported to Stoughton and Riggs that the screws were on tight. Save only the pumps and generators, not a wheel turned in the Consolidated. Birch's conclusion was that millions more were needed. Consolidated stock settled down to a nominal value that fluctuated with conflicting reports of new capital having been found, but the whole affair was flat--indescribably flat. And meantime Birch--with the unprofitable burden on his shoulders--made pilgrimages to test the financial pulse, and for months returned empty handed.

In St. Marys it seemed that Arcadia might be reborn,--not the old time Arcadia with its sleepy village atmosphere, but a modern one in which folk made up their minds to live on the profits of past years. The car service was reduced, and half the street lamps removed. There were empty houses in the new streets, and the property which once passed through Manson's hands could have been re-bought at the original price. Filmer and the rest reduced their stock, while the whole overbuilt, overgrown town settled down to wait till, after a weary interval, Clark got off the train with two strangers and drove up to the big house on the hill. In half an hour Bowers, who was expecting them, completed the quartet.

It was an unusual group that gathered that night in the dining room. Ardswell and Weatherby had spent a week in Philadelphia before Wimperley telegraphed Clark to come down. The story was plain enough. The two Englishmen had come from London to hear it,--and it was told well. But Wimperley and Birch shared the belief that Clark, in the meantime, should be kept in the background, lest his hypnosis should envelop them as of old. They held him, as it were, a reserve store of influence to be used at the proper time, and it was not till the financial aspect of the affair was thoroughly digested that he was called in to play his appointed part.

Ardswell and Weatherby wanted to see whether the machine could be made to run commercially. That it was not so running was obviously the fault of those in charge, and Clark at once determined not to attempt to make former mistakes less glaring. The more obvious they were allowed to remain, the more easy their rectification. He was too much in love with the works to dodge this sacrifice, and yet could not conceive their continuing without him.

Assuming this onerous duty, he was perfectly aware that he dealt with minds of a new complexion. Instead of responsive Americans, he confronted two cool-blooded Britishers, to whom any show of spontaneity was out of place. They were on guard, and Clark knew it, and of all his achievements none stands out more prominently than his attitude on the three days that followed. He became a Britisher himself. He assumed, quite correctly, that nothing would be accepted without proof.

Tramping about the works, they were accompanied by the superintendents of the various departments, to whom he referred the pointed questions that came so frequently in high-pitched, well modulated English voices. What Clark said himself was very curt and to the point. The works, he decided, could talk for themselves. Coming last to the pulp mill, Ardswell ran an admiring eye down the long rank of machinery, ranged like sleeping giants in a dwindling perspective.

"I say," he remarked involuntarily, "I'd like to see the thing turn over. Could it be arranged?--at our expense of course," he added.

Clark nodded to the superintendent, who was close behind, and presently the day watchmen were twisting at the turbine gate wheels. A soft tremor ran through the building, growing steadily to a deep, hoarse rumble as the massive grindstones revolved faster. The floor vibrated in a quick rhythm, and in a few seconds came the full drone of work--that profound and elemental note of nature when she toils at the behest of man.

The faintest flicker of light stirred in the blue English eyes. Ardswell had been walking from turbine to turbine. "Ripping!" he said. "You might shut down now."

The titans dropped one by one into slumber. When the last vibration was stilled, he looked up with a new respect. "We might go ahead if you don't mind."

"Take a quarter of an hour first, and follow me."

They struck southward, and the Englishmen heard the boom of the rapids deepen till they came to the edge of the river at Clark's observation point. There was a strong easterly wind, and it caught at the snowy crests of the bigger waves, spinning them out like silver manes of leaping horses. These flashed in the sunlight, till, over the central ridge of water, the air was full of a fine, misty spray that hung palpitating and luminous. Here was a torrential life--born of the endless and icy leagues of Lake Superior.

The two strangers stared fascinated, and as Clark watched them he perceived that once more the ageless voice of the rapids was speaking to human ears, just as it had spoken to his own so many times--and years before. He waited patiently, while the river lifted its elemental message, and saw the color rise in English cheeks and the cold, blue English eyes begin to sparkle again. What were the drab records of Birch's ledgers, or even the monumental pile of nearby buildings, compared to this impetuous slogan? He stood silently, plunged in the psychology of the moment.

"How much power--total I mean?" said Ardswell presently, pointing to the ripping flood.