XXIII

Allen went over the list of names lying on the desk before him for a

third time, carefully running down the column with his finger. Then he

leaned back in his chair and reflected. The single light flooded the

desk and cast its shadows out into the great office, but the boy's eyes

never left the papers before him.

"That's mighty strange," he said aloud. "I'll bet Lady Pat got it

straight, but if she did that list ought to show it."

He leaned forward again and turned to the early pages. "Courtney,

Cousens, Covell, Coveney--Covington ought to come in right there." Then

he turned the pages over rapidly--"Goodrich, Goodspeed, Goodwin, Gordon,

Gore--there isn't any Gorham there, either."

For several moments he sat there deep in thought. Suddenly he rose and

struck the top of the desk a resounding blow with his fist.

"Chump!" he cried. "Of course he didn't. Oh, I'm a great business man, I

am, thinking he'd buy those shares in his own name or in Alice's. It's

back to the dear old farm for me. Chump!"

He restored the papers to their proper places, picked up Patricia's

bank, which he still had with him, turned out the light, and then

tramped down the long flights of stairs to work off his excitement. He

was disappointed not to have succeeded in this first attempt to prove

his suspicions, but he found some consolation in the certainty which

came to him, even in the face of this defeat, that he was on the right

track.

For the next few days more immediate matters kept him completely

occupied. Gorham told him enough of what had happened at the meeting to

make him feel at once elated and concerned.

"You were right to a degree, my boy, and I give you credit for it; but

don't think for a moment that there is going to be any change in the

administration of the Consolidated Companies."

"You'll have a hard fight on your hands, Mr. Gorham. They aren't the

kind of men to let you force them any longer than they have to."

"That will be as long as we remain associated in the corporation,"

Gorham said, with conviction. "It does mean a greater burden for me and

for Covington and for you, as for all those who remain loyal, but the

game is worth the struggle. This is what makes life worth living, boy.

Struggles are nothing--I've had them always; it's only the lost faith

which slips in under one's guard and stings."

Allen longed to ask just where Covington claimed to stand, but he

dreaded further imputations as to the motives underlying his question.

Then, later, it occurred to him that he might take advantage of the new

relations created by Covington himself. Watching his opportunity, he

opened up the subject with a proper air of mystery.

"I wish you would advise me, Mr. Covington."

The words may have caused surprise, but Covington turned to the boy as

though his remark were perfectly natural.

"I shall be glad to if I can," he said.

"You see, I don't quite know where I stand just now. There's evidently

going to be a struggle between the chief and the committee, and I'd like

to be put in right. How do you think it's going to turn out?"

Covington did not doubt the sincerity which Allen's words and tone

apparently expressed.

"There is only one possible outcome," he replied, frankly. "Mr. Gorham

will have to compromise or they will find a way to take his power away

from him."

"But you don't think he will, do you?"

"He's bound to. No man except a fool is going to let his ideals rob him

of his power, and Robert Gorham is no fool."

"No, but those ideals are pretty well developed."

"Of course they are, and he will hold to them as long as he can; but

when Litchfield and the others begin to take real action, as they will

soon, he will see things differently."

"Then you advise me to stick to him?"

Covington looked at him critically. "If I were you," he said, carefully,

"I would stick to the Companies. I am with him, of course, but the

clerks have no special obligation to any one. You have been closer to

him than the others, but I don't suppose that is any reason why you

shouldn't look out for yourself if a break comes. But personally, I'm

not expecting any break."

"I never saw any one cotton so to anything as Mr. Gorham does to those

ideals of his," Allen continued. "I believe he talks them all day and

dreams them all night. It would break his heart to be obliged to take

back water."

Covington laughed at the boy's simplicity. "Mr. Gorham was in business

long before the Consolidated Companies was born, and from what they tell

me he was a clever one even back there. His ideals didn't trouble him

any then, yet he succeeded. He figures that it is necessary for him to

test his strength against the committee at this point, and he has

accomplished all he wants. He will play with them for a time, and

eventually make a compromise which will fool them into thinking that

they have carried their point, but which in reality will give him a

still stronger grip on the Companies. Mr. Gorham has taught me a good

many lessons, not the least of which is how to turn ideals into business

assets. I would suggest that you don't give yourself a great deal of

anxiety over his 'broken heart.'"

Covington's conversation with Allen was as frank and cordial as the boy

could have asked, yet between the two there was a barrier beyond which

Allen could not venture to pass. But the ice was broken, and this first

conversation which approached even a semblance of friendliness might

open the way for more important conferences in the future.

Gorham, during these days, was working hard to discover the real crux in

Buckner's affairs. His secret-service men supplied him with a detailed

record of the man's history, and reported frequent interviews between

him and Levy or Levy's agents. Gorham had even seen the lawyer himself,

but gained only a deeper conviction that it was a case of blackmail for

revenue only. Levy laid before him all the papers in the case with

praiseworthy frankness. He would even have extended his sympathy,

except that his first efforts in this direction had not been received in

the spirit he thought they should have been. If Buckner's statement was

correct, there had been a cruel blunder on the part of Eleanor's

counsel; yet unless he was certain of his ground, Gorham could not

comprehend his daring to place himself in so dangerous a position.

Already the machinery was in motion to settle this point, but so far the

telegrams from the Colorado lawyers threw no light on the situation.

James Riley made frequent reports, drawing liberal expense accounts each

time he called, but as yet no single fact had been unearthed which gave

any promise of relief. Gorham relished an open fight, but this guerilla

warfare, threatening Eleanor's happiness and peace of mind, caused him

real anxiety.

Eleanor's attitude throughout this period puzzled him not a little. The

more he thought the matter over, the more convinced he was that she was

right in her position that the question of the legality of the divorce

must be settled once and for all and at whatever cost. There must be

some way to arrive at this point without the necessity of a public

trial, but even if it came to that the facts must be established. Yet as

Gorham gradually came squarely over to his wife's viewpoint, Eleanor

seemed to be coming nearer to accepting the one which he had originally

advanced. This was what mystified him. He recognized that what she had

told him, when they first talked the matter over, was the natural

expression of the woman's self which he knew so well; her later attitude

showed the influence of some factor in her life unknown to him. She had

repeatedly been on the point of confiding to him, yet the confidence had

never been given, and Gorham was not a man who could urge beyond what

it was her voluntary desire to speak.

It never had occurred to him to take offence or to criticise Eleanor's

attitude. He wished that she would come to him with the burden which lay

so heavily upon her heart, but he wished it only because he felt that he

could lighten it. Ever since the cloud had become apparent, his

tenderness toward her had increased to such an extent that she felt

herself weakened by his sympathy and swept along relentlessly by the

flood of events which crowded one on top of another. He had told her

that there should be no trial, and she showed him by every word and act

that she depended blindly upon his ability to make good his promise.

The calm which existed at the offices of the Consolidated Companies

during the fortnight succeeding the stormy session of the committee,

while unexpected, did not lull Gorham into any false sense of security.

Now that his vision had been cleared, he knew that it was their strength

pitted against his own. He had his own plans for meeting this, but with

supreme confidence in himself he preferred to let them make the first

move. Covington had not retreated from his position that a compromise of

some sort was desirable, but he succeeded in convincing Gorham that this

was simply a difference in viewpoint, and that his chief's judgment

would, of course, be final. Acting upon the definite authority which

Gorham had forced from the committee to replace the tacit understanding

which had existed from the first, he plunged ahead with renewed energy

to perfect the organizations which the Companies had in hand. But while

conscious that his associates were undoubtedly concentrating their

energies upon some plan which might be used effectively against him, he

was grateful for the postponement of the issue, in that it gave him time

to work upon his present domestic problem.

Covington congratulated himself upon the happy solution of the most

dangerous horn of his dilemma. He did not wish Gorham to yield, and he

found that the more he urged him to compromise, the more firmly set he

was against doing it. Thus he could accomplish his purpose, and at the

same time put himself on record without risk of being called disloyal,

while advising him for his own best good. The others were working hard,

and Covington could have posted his chief upon many interesting points

had he chosen to do so. Instead, he preferred to bring added pressure

upon Alice to name an early date for their wedding. He seemed to have

overlooked the fact that as yet she had not given him her formal

consent, but as the event was apparently accepted by her father and

Eleanor and Covington himself as a foregone conclusion, the girl took no

definite exceptions to his attitude. He was, of course, aware of the

family complications, and, in expressing his sympathy, explained that he

could be of much greater assistance in helping to straighten matters out

if he were actually included in the family circle.

But Covington, with all his astuteness, was frankly surprised by a piece

of information which one of the committee confided to him; and this was

nothing less than that unquestionable evidence had been secured that

Gorham himself had, at least in one instance, taken advantage of his

position for personal gain. What this instance was his informant could

not at that moment say--the facts were being carefully compiled, but the

evidence was beyond dispute. This autocrat, who talked of principle and

honor, had been caught red-handed in the very act against which he

pretended to stand; and, of course, this instance was but one of many.

Doctor Jekyll could take it upon himself to deliver platitudes upon

moral rectitude, while Mr. Hyde gathered in the shekels on the side!

The members of the Executive Committee were hugely pleased, and

Covington no less so. All was playing into his hands with surprising

directness, and he even began to feel that his approaching marriage into

Mr. Gorham's family was an act of supreme sacrifice on his part. Still,

it were better to safeguard both exits to the house, and Alice was an

amusing little minx, after all.