At fifty-six, John Burkett Ryder was surprisingly well preserved.
With the exception of the slight stoop, already noted, and the
rapidly thinning snow-white hair, his step was as light and
elastic, and his brain as vigorous and alert, as in a man of
forty. Of old English stock, his physical make-up presented
all those strongly marked characteristics of our race which,
sprung from Anglo-Saxon ancestry, but modified by nearly 300
years of different climate and customs, has gradually produced
the distinct and true American type, as easily recognizable among
the family of nations as any other of the earth's children. Tall
and distinguished-looking, Ryder would have attracted attention
anywhere. Men who have accomplished much in life usually bear
plainly upon their persons the indefinable stamp of achievement,
whether of good or evil, which renders them conspicuous among
their fellows. We turn after a man in the street and ask, Who is
he? And nine times out of ten the object of our curiosity is a man
who has made his mark--a successful soldier, a famous sailor, a
celebrated author, a distinguished lawyer, or even a notorious
crook.
There was certainly nothing in John Ryder's outward appearance to
justify Lombroso's sensational description of him: "A social and
physiological freak, a degenerate and a prodigy of turpitude who,
in the pursuit of money, crushes with the insensibility of a steel
machine everyone who stands in his way." On the contrary, Ryder,
outwardly at least, was a prepossessing-looking man. His head was
well-shaped, and he had an intellectual brow, while power was
expressed in every gesture of his hands and body. Every inch of
him suggested strength and resourcefulness. His face, when in good
humour, frequently expanded in a pleasant smile, and he had even
been known to laugh boisterously, usually at his own stories,
which he rightly considered very droll, and of which he possessed
a goodly stock. But in repose his face grew stern and forbidding,
and when his prognathous jaw, indicative of will-power and
bull-dog tenacity, snapped to with a click-like sound, those who
heard it knew that squalls were coming.
But it was John Ryder's eyes that were regarded as the most
reliable barometer of his mental condition. Wonderful eyes they
were, strangely eloquent and expressive, and their most singular
feature was that they possessed the uncanny power of changing
colour like a cat's. When their owner was at peace with the world,
and had temporarily shaken off the cares of business, his eyes
were of the most restful, beautiful blue, like the sky after
sunrise on a Spring morning, and looking into their serene depths
it seemed absurd to think that this man could ever harm a fly. His
face, while under the spell of this kindly mood, was so benevolent
and gentle, so frank and honest that you felt there was nothing in
the world--purse, honour, wife, child--that, if needs be, you
would not entrust to his keeping.
When this period of truce was ended, when the plutocrat was once
more absorbed in controlling the political as well as the
commercial machinery of the nation, then his eyes took on a
snakish, greenish hue, and one could plainly read in them the
cunning, the avariciousness, the meanness, the insatiable thirst
for gain that had made this man the most unscrupulous money-getter
of his time. But his eyes had still another colour, and when this
last transformation took place those dependent on him, and even
his friends, quaked with fear. For they were his eyes of anger. On
these dreaded occasions his eyes grew black as darkest night and
flashed fire as lightning rends the thundercloud. Almost
ungovernable fury was, indeed, the weakest spot in John Ryder's
armour, for in these moments of appalling wrath he was reckless of
what he said or did, friendship, self-interest, prudence--all were
sacrificed.
Such was the Colossus on whom all eyes were turned as he entered.
Instantly the conversations stopped as by magic. The directors
nudged each other and whispered. Instinctively, Ryder singled out
his crony, Senator Roberts, who advanced with effusive gesture:
"Hello, Senator!"
"You're punctual as usual, Mr. Ryder. I never knew you to be
late!"
The great man chuckled, and the little men standing around,
listening breathlessly, chuckled in respectful sympathy, and they
elbowed and pushed one another in their efforts to attract Ryder's
notice, like so many cowardly hyenas not daring to approach the
lordly wolf. Senator Roberts made a remark in a low tone to Ryder,
whereupon the latter laughed. The bystanders congratulated each
other silently. The great man was pleased to be in a good humour.
And as Ryder turned with the senator to enter the Directors Room
the light from the big windows fell full on his face, and they
noticed that his eyes were of the softest blue.
"No squalls to-day," whispered one.
"Wait and see," retorted a more experienced colleague. "Those eyes
are more fickle than the weather."
Outside the sky was darkening, and drops of rain were already
falling. A flash of lightning presaged the coming storm.
Ryder passed on and into the Directors Room followed by Senator
Roberts and the other directors, the procession being brought up
by the dapper little secretary bearing the minutes.
The long room with its narrow centre table covered with green
baize was filled with directors scattered in little groups and all
talking at once with excited gesture. At the sight of Ryder the
chattering stopped as if by common consent, and the only sound
audible was of the shuffling of feet and the moving of chairs as
the directors took their places around the long table.
With a nod here and there Ryder took his place in the chairman's
seat and rapped for order. Then at a sign from the chair the
dapper little secretary began in a monotonous voice to read the
minutes of the previous meeting. No one listened, a few directors
yawned. Others had their eyes riveted on Ryder's face, trying to
read there if he had devised some plan to offset the crushing blow
of this adverse decision, which meant a serious loss to them all.
He, the master mind, had served them in many a like crisis in the
past. Could he do so again? But John Ryder gave no sign. His eyes,
still of the same restful blue, were fixed on the ceiling watching
a spider marching with diabolical intent on a wretched fly that
had become entangled in its web. And as the secretary ambled
monotonously on, Ryder watched and watched until he saw the spider
seize its helpless prey and devour it. Fascinated by the
spectacle, which doubtless suggested to him some analogy to his
own methods, Ryder sat motionless, his eyes fastened on the
ceiling, until the sudden stopping of the secretary's reading
aroused him and told him that the minutes were finished. Quickly
they were approved, and the chairman proceeded as rapidly as
possible with the regular business routine. That disposed of, the
meeting was ready for the chief business of the day. Ryder then
calmly proceeded to present the facts in the case.
Some years back the road had acquired as an investment some
thousands of acres of land located in the outskirts of Auburndale,
on the line of their road. The land was bought cheap, and there
had been some talk of laying part of it out as a public park. This
promise had been made at the time in good faith, but it was no
condition of the sale. If, afterwards, owing to the rise in the
value of real estate, the road found it impossible to carry out
the original idea, surely they were masters of their own property!
The people of Auburndale thought differently and, goaded on by the
local newspapers, had begun action in the courts to restrain the
road from diverting the land from its alleged original purpose.
They had succeeded in getting the injunction, but the road had
fought it tooth and nail, and finally carried it to the Supreme
Court, where Judge Rossmore, after reserving his opinion, had
finally sustained the injunction and decided against the railroad.
That was the situation, and he would now like to hear from the
members of the board.
Mr. Grimsby rose. Self-confident and noisily loquacious, as most
men of his class are in simple conversation, he was plainly
intimidated at speaking before such a crowd. He did not know where
to look nor what to do with his hands, and he shuffled uneasily on
his feet, while streams of nervous perspiration ran down his fat
face, which he mopped repeatedly with a big coloured handkerchief.
At last, taking courage, he began:
"Mr. Chairman, for the past ten years this road has made bigger
earnings in proportion to its carrying capacity than any other
railroad in the United States. We have had fewer accidents, less
injury to rolling stock, less litigation and bigger dividends. The
road has been well managed and"--here he looked significantly in
Ryder's direction--"there has been a big brain behind the manager.
We owe you that credit, Mr. Ryder!"
Cries of "Hear! Hear!" came from all round the table.
Ryder bowed coldly, and Mr. Grimsby continued:
"But during the last year or two things have gone wrong. There has
been a lot of litigation, most of which has gone against us, and
it has cost a heap of money. It reduced the last quarterly
dividend very considerably, and the new complication--this
Auburndale suit, which also has gone against us--is going to make
a still bigger hole in our exchequer. Gentlemen, I don't want to
be a prophet of misfortune, but I'll tell you this--unless
something is done to stop this hostility in the courts you and I
stand to lose every cent we have invested in the road. This suit
which we have just lost means a number of others. What I would ask
our chairman is what has become of his former good relations with
the Supreme Court, what has become of his influence, which never
failed us. What are these rumours regarding Judge Rossmore? He is
charged in the newspapers with having accepted a present from a
road in whose favour he handed down a very valuable decision. How
is it that our road cannot reach Judge Rossmore and make him
presents?"
The speaker sat down, flushed and breathless. The expression on
every face showed that the anxiety was general. The directors
glanced at Ryder, but his face was expressionless as marble.
Apparently he took not the slightest interest in this matter which
so agitated his colleagues.
Another director rose. He was a better speaker than Mr. Grimsby,
but his voice had a hard, rasping quality that smote the ears
unpleasantly. He said:
"Mr. Chairman, none of us can deny what Mr. Grimsby has just put
before us so vividly. We are threatened not with one, but with a
hundred such suits, unless something is done either to placate the
public or to render its attacks harmless. Rightly or wrongly, the
railroad is hated by the people, yet we are only what railroad
conditions compel us to be. With the present fierce competition,
no fine question of ethics can enter into our dealings as a
business organization. With an irritated public and press on one
side, and a hostile judiciary on the other, the outlook certainly
is far from bright. But is the judiciary hostile? Is it not true
that we have been singularly free from litigation until recently,
and that most of the decisions were favourable to the road? Judge
Rossmore is the real danger. While he is on the bench the road is
not safe. Yet all efforts to reach him have failed and will fail.
I do not take any stock in the newspaper stories regarding Judge
Rossmore. They are preposterous. Judge Rossmore is too strong a
man to be got rid of so easily."
The speaker sat down and another rose, his arguments being merely
a reiteration of those already heard. Ryder did not listen to what
was being said. Why should he? Was he not familiar with every
possible phase of the game? Better than these men who merely
talked, he was planning how the railroad and all his other
interests could get rid of this troublesome judge.
It was true. He who controlled legislatures and dictated to Supreme
Court judges had found himself powerless when each turn of the legal
machinery had brought him face to face with Judge Rossmore. Suit
after suit had been decided against him and the interests he
represented, and each time it was Judge Rossmore who had handed
down the decision. So for years these two men had fought a silent
but bitter duel in which principle on the one side and attempted
corruption on the other were the gauge of battle. Judge Rossmore
fought with the weapons which his oath and the law directed him
to use, Ryder with the only weapons he understood--bribery and
trickery. And each time it had been Rossmore who had emerged
triumphant. Despite every manoeuvre Ryder's experience could
suggest, notwithstanding every card that could be played to
undermine his credit and reputation, Judge Rossmore stood higher
in the country's confidence than when he was first appointed.
So when Ryder found he could not corrupt this honest judge with
gold, he decided to destroy him with calumny. He realized that the
sordid methods which had succeeded with other judges would never
prevail with Rossmore, so he plotted to take away from this man
the one thing he cherished most--his honour. He would ruin him by
defaming his character, and so skilfully would he accomplish his
work that the judge himself would realize the hopelessness of
resistance. No scruples embarrassed Ryder in arriving at this
determination. From his point of view he was fully justified.
"Business is business. He hurts my interests; therefore I remove
him." So he argued, and he considered it no more wrong to wreck
the happiness of this honourable man than he would to have shot a
burglar in self-defence. So having thus tranquillized his
conscience he had gone to work in his usually thorough manner, and
his success had surpassed the most sanguine expectations.
This is what he had done.
Like many of our public servants whose labours are compensated
only in niggardly fashion by an inconsiderate country, Judge
Rossmore was a man of but moderate means. His income as Justice of
the Supreme Court was $12,000 a year, but for a man in his
position, having a certain appearance to keep up, it little more
than kept the wolf from the door. He lived quietly but comfortably
in New York City with his wife and his daughter Shirley, an
attractive young woman who had graduated from Vassar and had shown
a marked taste for literature. The daughter's education had cost a
good deal of money, and this, together with life insurance and
other incidentals of keeping house in New York, had about taken
all he had. Yet he had managed to save a little, and those years
when he could put by a fifth of his salary the judge considered
himself lucky. Secretly, he was proud of his comparative poverty.
At least the world could never ask him "where he got it."
Ryder was well acquainted with Judge Rossmore's private means. The
two men had met at a dinner, and although Ryder had tried to
cultivate the acquaintance, he never received much encouragement.
Ryder's son Jefferson, too, had met Miss Shirley Rossmore and been
much attracted to her, but the father having more ambitious plans
for his heir quickly discouraged all attentions in that direction.
He himself, however, continued to meet the judge casually, and one
evening he contrived to broach the subject of profitable
investments. The judge admitted that by careful hoarding and much
stinting he had managed to save a few thousand dollars which he
was anxious to invest in something good.
Quick as the keen-eyed vulture swoops down on its prey the wily
financier seized the opportunity thus presented. And he took so
much trouble in answering the judge's inexperienced questions, and
generally made himself so agreeable, that the judge found himself
regretting that he and Ryder had, by force of circumstances, been
opposed to each other in public life so long. Ryder strongly
recommended the purchase of Alaskan Mining stock, a new and
booming enterprise which had lately become very active in the
market. Ryder said he had reasons to believe that the stock would
soon advance, and now there was an opportunity to get it cheap.
A few days after he had made the investment the judge was
surprised to receive certificates of stock for double the amount
he had paid for. At the same time he received a letter from the
secretary of the company explaining that the additional stock was
pool stock and not to be marketed at the present time. It was in
the nature of a bonus to which he was entitled as one of the early
shareholders. The letter was full of verbiage and technical
details of which the judge understood nothing, but he thought it
very liberal of the company, and putting the stock away in his
safe soon forgot all about it. Had he been a business man he would
have scented peril. He would have realized that he had now in his
possession $50,000 worth of stock for which he had not paid a
cent, and furthermore had deposited it when a reorganization came.
But the judge was sincerely grateful for Ryder's apparently
disinterested advice and wrote two letters to him, one in which he
thanked him for the trouble he had taken, and another in which he
asked him if he was sure the company was financially sound, as the
investment he contemplated making represented all his savings. He
added in the second letter that he had received stock for double
the amount of his investment, and that being a perfect child in
business transactions he had been unable to account for the extra
$50,000 worth until the secretary of the company had written him
assuring him that everything was in order. These letters Ryder
kept.
From that time on the Alaskan Mining Company underwent mysterious
changes. New capitalists gained control and the name was altered
to the Great Northwestern Mining Company. Then it became involved
in litigation, and one suit, the outcome of which meant millions
to the company, was carried to the Supreme Court, where Judge
Rossmore was sitting. The judge had by this time forgotten all
about the company in which he owned stock. He did not even recall
its name. He only knew vaguely that it was a mine and that it was
situated in Alaska. Could he dream that the Great Northwestern
Mining Company and the company to which he had entrusted his few
thousands were one and the same? In deciding on the merits of the
case presented to him right seemed to him to be plainly with the
Northwestern, and he rendered a decision to that effect. It was an
important decision, involving a large sum, and for a day or two it
was talked about. But as it was the opinion of the most learned
and honest judge on the bench no one dreamed of questioning it.
But very soon ugly paragraphs began to appear in the newspapers.
One paper asked if it were true that Judge Rossmore owned stock in
the Great Northwestern Mining Company which had recently benefited
so signally by his decision. Interviewed by a reporter, Judge
Rossmore indignantly denied being interested in any way in the
company. Thereupon the same paper returned to the attack, stating
that the judge must surely be mistaken as the records showed a
sale of stock to him at the time the company was known as the
Alaskan Mining Company. When he read this the judge was
overwhelmed. It was true then! They had not slandered him. It was
he who had lied, but how innocently--how innocently!
His daughter Shirley, who was his greatest friend and comfort, was
then in Europe. She had gone to the Continent to rest, after
working for months on a novel which she had just published. His
wife, entirely without experience in business matters and somewhat
of an invalid, was helpless to advise him. But to his old and
tried friend, ex-Judge Stott, Judge Rossmore explained the facts
as they were. Stott shook his head. "It's a conspiracy!" he cried.
"And John B. Ryder is behind it." Rossmore refused to believe that
any man could so deliberately try to encompass another's
destruction, but when more newspaper stories came out he began to
realize that Stott was right and that his enemies had indeed dealt
him a deadly blow. One newspaper boldly stated that Judge Rossmore
was down on the mining company's books for $50,000 more stock than
he had paid for, and it went on to ask if this were payment for
the favourable decision just rendered. Rossmore, helpless,
child-like as he was in business matters, now fully realized the
seriousness of his position. "My God! My God!" he cried, as he
bowed his head down on his desk. And for a whole day he remained
closeted in his library, no one venturing near him.
As John Ryder sat there sphinx-like at the head of the directors'
table he reviewed all this in his mind. His own part in the work
was now done and well done, and he had come to this meeting to-day
to tell them of his triumph.
The speaker, to whom he had paid such scant attention, resumed his
seat, and there followed a pause and an intense silence which was
broken only by the pattering of the rain against the big windows.
The directors turned expectantly to Ryder, waiting for him to
speak. What could the Colossus do now to save the situation? Cries
of "the Chair! the Chair!" arose on every side. Senator Roberts
leaned over to Ryder and whispered something in his ear.
[Pencil illustration of the meeting]
He had come to this meeting to-day to tell them of his
triumph.--_Page 46._
With an acquiescent gesture, John Ryder tapped the table with his
gavel and rose to address his fellow directors. Instantly the room
was silent again as the tomb. One might have heard a pin drop, so
intense was the attention. All eyes were fixed on the chairman.
The air itself seemed charged with electricity, that needed but a
spark to set it ablaze.
Speaking deliberately and dispassionately, the Master Dissembler
began.
They had all listened carefully, he said, to what had been stated
by previous speakers. The situation no doubt was very critical,
but they had weathered worse storms and he had every reason to
hope they would outlive this storm. It was true that public
opinion was greatly incensed against the railroads and, indeed,
against all organized capital, and was seeking to injure them
through the courts. For a time this agitation would hurt business
and lessen the dividends, for it meant not only smaller annual
earnings but that a lot of money must be spent in Washington.
The eyes of the listeners, who were hanging on every word,
involuntarily turned in the direction of Senator Roberts, but the
latter, at that moment busily engaged in rummaging among a lot of
papers, seemed to have missed this significant allusion to the
road's expenses in the District of Columbia. Ryder continued:
In his experience such waves of reform were periodical and soon
wear themselves out, when things go on just as they did before.
Much of the agitation, doubtless, was a strike for graft. They
would have to go down in their pockets, he supposed, and then
these yellow newspapers and these yellow magazines that were
barking at their heels would let them go. But in regard to the
particular case now at issue--this Auburndale decision--there had
been no way of preventing it. Influence had been used, but to no
effect. The thing to do now was to prevent any such disasters in
future by removing the author of them.
The directors bent eagerly forward. Had Ryder really got some plan
up his sleeve after all? The faces around the table looked
brighter, and the directors cleared their throats and settled
themselves down in their chairs as audiences do in the theatre
when the drama is reaching its climax.
The board, continued Ryder with icy calmness, had perhaps heard,
and also seen in the newspapers, the stories regarding Judge
Rossmore and his alleged connection with the Great Northwestern
Company. Perhaps they had not believed these stories. It was only
natural. He had not believed them himself. But he had taken the
trouble to inquire into the matter very carefully, and he
regretted to say that the stories were true. In fact, they were no
longer denied by Judge Rossmore himself.
The directors looked at each other in amazement. Gasps of
astonishment, incredulity, satisfaction were heard all over the
room. The rumours were true, then? Was it possible? Incredible!
Investigation, Ryder went on, had shown that Judge Rossmore was
not only interested in the company in whose favour, as Judge of
the Supreme Court, he had rendered an important decision, but what
was worse, he had accepted from that company a valuable gift--that
is, $50,000 worth of stock--for which he had given absolutely
nothing in return unless, as some claimed, the weight of his
influence on the bench. These facts were very ugly and so
unanswerable that Judge Rossmore did not attempt to answer them,
and the important news which he, the chairman, had to announce to
his fellow-directors that afternoon, was that Judge Rossmore's
conduct would be made the subject of an inquiry by Congress.
This was the spark that was needed to ignite the electrically
charged air. A wild cry of triumph went up from this band of
jackals only too willing to fatten their bellies at the cost of
another man's ruin, and one director, in his enthusiasm, rose
excitedly from his chair and demanded a vote of thanks for John
Ryder.
Ryder coldly opposed the motion. No thanks were due to him, he
said deprecatingly, nor did he think the occasion called for
congratulations of any kind. It was surely a sad spectacle to see
this honoured judge, this devoted father, this blameless citizen
threatened with ruin and disgrace on account of one false step.
Let them rather sympathize with him and his family in their
misfortune. He had little more to tell. The Congressional inquiry
would take place immediately, and in all probability a demand
would be made upon the Senate for Judge Rossmore's impeachment. It
was, he added, almost unnecessary for him to remind the Board
that, in the event of impeachment, the adverse decision in the
Auburndale case would be annulled and the road would be entitled
to a new trial.
Ryder sat down, and pandemonium broke loose, the delighted
directors tumbling over each other in their eagerness to shake
hands with the man who had saved them. Ryder had given no hint
that he had been a factor in the working up of this case against
their common enemy, in fact he had appeared to sympathise with
him, but the directors knew well that he and he alone had been the
master mind which had brought about the happy result.
On a motion to adjourn, the meeting broke up, and everyone began
to troop towards the elevators. Outside the rain was now coming
down in torrents and the lights that everywhere dotted the great
city only paled when every few moments a vivid flash of lightning
rent the enveloping gloom.
Ryder and Senator Roberts went down in the elevator together. When
they reached the street the senator inquired in a low tone:
"Do you think they really believed Rossmore was influenced in his
decision?"
Ryder glanced from the lowering clouds overhead to his electric
brougham which awaited him at the curb and replied indifferently:
"Not they. They don't care. All they want to believe is that he is
to be impeached. The man was dangerous and had to be removed--no
matter by what means. He is our enemy--my enemy--and I never give
quarter to my enemies!"
As he spoke his prognathous jaw snapped to with a click-like
sound, and in his eyes now coal-black were glints of fire. At the
same instant there was a blinding flash, accompanied by a terrific
crash, and the splinters of the flag-pole on the building
opposite, which had been struck by a bolt, fell at their feet.
"A good or a bad omen?" asked the senator with a nervous laugh. He
was secretly afraid of lightning; but was ashamed to admit it.
"A bad omen for Judge Rossmore!" rejoined Ryder coolly, as he
slammed to the door of the cab, and the two men drove rapidly off
in the direction of Fifth Avenue.