Around the neck of every great industrial undertaking is hung a chain of
unlovely parasites, who fatten on the interruptions to its progress and
the fluctuations in its success. These men create nothing--contribute
nothing. Playing on the fears and hopes and untempered weakness of the
public, they reap where they do not sow and feed the speculative appetite
of millions. To them it is negligible whether good men go down or honest
effort is rewarded. Predatory by nature and unscrupulous in action, they
prey upon their fellows, and, like the wolf, are strangers to mercy and
compassion. Their wealth is not an asset to the world, because it
represents nothing they have originated, but only that which they have
filched from others less shrewd and unscrupulous. They do not hesitate
to magnify the false or to bring to ruin what they find most profitably
assailable. They have respect for neither genius nor labor, but juggle
with the efforts of both in a fierce game for gold.
As the gong struck on the Philadelphia Exchange next morning, a well
known operator associated with Marsham's firm threw five thousand shares
of Consolidated on the market. It was taken at forty-eight, a loss of
two points, and in that first transaction the value of the entire
enterprise shrank by half a million.
A moment later, Wimperley knew of it and sent for Birch, but Birch, who
had been just as speedily informed, was already on his way. He came in,
a little paler than usual. On his heels arrived Stoughton and Riggs.
They were in the padded seclusion of the president's inner office, while
two blocks away swelled a storm, whose echoes only reached them in the
sharp staccato of the ticker in the corner as it vomited a strip of white
paper. Wimperley stood there, the strip slipping between his fingers,
while selling orders began to pour in to Philadelphia, and the price of
Consolidated crumbled like dust. He could visualize the scene on the
floor of the Exchange, the frenzy of men smitten with sudden fear, and
the deliberate cold-blooded action of others who lent their weight to
this downfall. Marsham was very busy. Greater grew the flood, with
sales of so great quantities of stock that they perceived the market was
going boldly short. Then came an avalanche of small holdings, till the
ticker announced that it had fallen behind the record of transactions and
that Consolidated was now offered at thirty-five with no bidders. This
was three-quarters of an hour after the Exchange opened.
Stoughton and the others sat quite motionless. The thing was too big for
them to grasp at once, but they had a dull sense that the foundation
stones of their great pyramid were shifting, that the gigantic structures
at St. Marys were dissolving into something phantom-like and tenuous. At
this juncture a message was brought in from Clark.
Hear market is very weak. Please buy five thousand for me by way of
support.
Wimperley read and handed it silently to Riggs. The little man swallowed
a lump in his throat. "By God!" he said unsteadily, "but he's got sand,
no doubt about it."
"What's that?" Stoughton demanded dully, and, reaching out, glanced at
the telegram. "Why throw Robert Fisher to the wolves? They're doing
well enough as it is," he grunted, and relapsed into a brooding silence.
Then began to arrive inquiries from country banks and cancellations from
country subscribers. Wimperley read them out as they came in, and, well
informed though he was of the wide distribution of Consolidated stock,
experienced a slow amazement at the broad range of his followers. Their
messages were indignant, despairing, threatening and pathetic. He began
to wonder why he had accepted a responsibility which was now for the
first time unveiled in such startling proportions. Yesterday the
Consolidated was a name to conjure with. To-day it was an epitome of
human fear and desperation.
Ten seconds before the noon gong struck on the Exchange, a frantic broker
lifted a bull like voice above the uproar.
"Sell five thousand consol at thirty-two, thirty-two!" He bellowed it
out raucously. The selling order had been flashed from Toronto.
"Taken at thirty-two," snapped Marsham's operator, who had opened the
perilous game that morning, and, smiling, jotted a note on his cuff. He
had made just eighty thousand dollars on that one transaction. The
market strengthened a little in the afternoon on short covering, the
matter of investment being thrown to the winds. Consolidated was now a
gambling counter, and the closing quotation stood at thirty-five. Former
values had shrunk by some eight millions. Gone was that laborious
upbuilding into which Clark and the rest had thrown their very souls;
overcast were the efforts of seven years. It was, to most people, a
question of what might be made of what was left. The works remained,
but, the public concluded, the iron and steel section, the heart of the
thing, was unsound. Such is the communicable essence of fear.
At ten minutes after three the directors met to face a situation which
was, in all truth, serious enough. Philadelphia banks, smarting from
loans made on Consolidated stock, had declined further credit. The first
payment of a million dollars for steel rails was indefinitely deferred.
Creditors, galvanized by the events of the day, poured in ceaseless
demands that their accounts be liquidated, but moneys due the
Consolidated for pulp had been realized and diverted into the building of
railways and the construction of the rail mill. Birch, his face very
grave, ran over all this in a level monotone of a voice, while the rest
wearily admitted its truth, and in the middle of the rehearsal a message
was brought in from Clark.
Greatly regret events of to-day but am unshakenly confident for the
future, given sufficient time to remedy defect in rails which should not
take long. Chemical analyses show too high carbon and this can be
rectified. Now awaiting remittance for payroll.
Wimperley read it without a trace of accentuation, while Stoughton got up
and stared, as once before, at the sky line of Philadelphia.
"Well," drawled Birch dryly, "we've heard from our prophet."
"He's got more confidence in our future than we have in his past," put in
Riggs.