Move now to Philadelphia, long since linked with St. Marys by a private
wire, at either end of which sat the confidential operators of the
Company. The seed sown by Clark a few years ago had flourished
amazingly. Instead of the austerity of Wimperley's office there was
now the quiet magnificence of the Consolidated Company's financial
headquarters, tenanted by a small battalion of clerks and officials.
These were the metropolitan evidence of the remote activities in St.
Marys.
To thousands of Pennsylvanians this office was a focal point of extreme
interest. From it emanated announcements of work by which they were
vitally affected, for Clark had come to Philadelphia at the
psychological moment and cast his influence on those who were
accredited leaders in the community. He had said that millions waited
investment and he was right, for once Wimperley, Stoughton and Riggs
had satisfied themselves as to the project and announced their support,
money began to come in, at first in a slow trickle, but soon in a
steadily increasing flood.
It was recognized that time was required to bring to fruition the
various undertakings so rapidly conceived, and Clark's shareholders had
in them a certain stolid deliberation, aided, perhaps, by a strain of
Dutch ancestry. This kept money moving in a steady stream and in the
desired direction. From Philadelphia the attraction spread to outside
points. It was noticeable that, with the exception of Pennsylvania,
other States did not evidence any appreciable interest. The thing was
a Philadelphia enterprise, and to this city from neighboring villages
came a growing demand for stock.
Four years before this, St. Marys was practically unknown in
Philadelphia, but now at thousands of breakfast tables the morning
papers were hurriedly turned over in search of the closing quotation of
Clark's various companies. These began to increase in number, and
there commenced that gigantic pyramid in which the various stories were
interdependent and dovetailed with all the art of the financial expert.
Daily, it might be said, the interest grew, until it seemed that the
potent voice of the rapids had leaped the intervening leagues and its
dull vibrations were booming in the ears of thousands.
Moving in the procession was one whose training did not permit of
wholesale surrender to the cause. Wimperley was a railway man and had,
in consequence, a keen eye for results. His normal condition of mind
was one in which he balanced operating costs against traffic returns
and analyzed the results. And Wimperley was getting anxious. The
profits from the pulp mill, for there were profits, had gone straight
into other undertakings, and the god of construction who reigned at St.
Marys demanded still further offerings. This was why Wimperley had
persuaded Birch, one of the keenest and most cold blooded financial men
in the city, to come on the board. Birch, he reckoned, would be the
necessary balance-wheel, and it was safe betting that he would not
yield to the mesmeric influence of the man in St. Marys. Now Stoughton
and Riggs and Birch had met him in the Consolidated office, and through
a pale, gray haze of cigar smoke Wimperley spoke that which was in his
mind.
"The thing is going too fast," he concluded. "My God! How much money
has that man spent?"
Birch fingered a straggling gray beard. He was a tall man, lean and
silent, with a tight mouth, sallow cheeks and cold eyes. It was said
he had never been caught napping, and his was one of those fortunes
which are acquired in secrecy. He was neither companionable nor
magnetic but he was obviously shrewd and astute and created a sense of
confidence which, though chilling, was none the less reassuring.
Birch, like the rest, had met Clark, but now he put the vision of those
remarkable eyes out of his head.
"Seven millions and a half up to last Saturday."
Stoughton made a thick little noise in his throat. He knew it was
something over seven millions, but the figures sounded differently as
Birch gave them. Then Wimperley's voice came in.
"Had a letter yesterday, Clark wants to build a railway."
"Why?" squeaked Riggs.
"To bring down pulp wood from new areas which are not on the river. He
wants to open up the country generally--says it is full of natural
resources."
"Is there any dividend in sight?" demanded Stoughton bluntly.
Followed a little silence and the long thin fingers of Birch began an
intermittent tap on the polished table. Presently Wimperley glanced up
and smiled dryly. He had not known that Birch understood the Morse
code. "Birch has told you," he said.
Stoughton and the rest looked puzzled.
"We can't pay a dividend if we let Clark build this railway."
"Then why build it?"
"Clark claims it is necessary to secure a dependable supply of spruce
for the pulp mills, and hard wood for the veneer works. He reckons it
will cost two million, and says the Government will help--but perhaps
they won't." He broke off, rather red in the face.
"Do any of you fellows remember Marsham?" put in Birch quietly.