JIMMY PLATT ENJOYS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF HIS LIFE
The straightening out of the waterworks matter left Bobby free to turn
his attention to the local gas and electric situation. The _Bulletin_,
since Bobby had defeated his political enemies, had been put upon a
paying basis and was rapidly earning its way out of the debt that he
had been compelled to incur for it; but the Brightlight Electric
Company was a thorn in his side. Its only business now was the street
illumination of twelve blocks, under a municipal contract which lost
him money every month, and it had been a terrific task to keep it
going.
The Consolidated Illuminating and Power Company, however, Bobby
discovered by careful inquiry, was in even worse financial straits
than the Brightlight. To its thirty millions of stock, mostly water,
twenty more millions of water had been added, making a total
organization of fifty million dollars; and the twenty million dollars'
stock had been sold to the public for ten million dollars, each
purchaser of one share of preferred being given one share of common.
As the preferred was to draw five per cent., this meant that two and
one-half million dollars a year must be paid out in dividends. The
salary roll of the company was enormous, and the number of non-working
officers who drew extravagant stipends would have swamped any company.
Comparing the two concerns, Bobby felt that in the Brightlight he had
vastly the better property of the two, in that there was no water in
it at its present, half-million-dollar capitalization.
It was while pondering these matters that Bobby, dropping in at the
Idlers' Club one dull night, found no one there but Silas Trimmer's
son-in-law, the vapid and dissolute Clarence Smythe, which was a
trifle worse than finding the place entirely deserted. To-night
Clarence was in possession of what was known at the Idlers' as "one of
Smythe's soggy buns," and despite countless snubs in the past he
seized upon Bobby as a receptacle for his woes.
"I'm going to leave this town for good, Burnit!" he declared without
any preliminaries, having waited so long to convey this startling and
important information that salutations were entirely forgotten.
"For good! For whose good?" inquired Bobby.
"Mine," responded Clarence. "This town's gone to the bow-wows. It's in
the hands of a lot of pikers. There's no chance to make big money any
more."
"Yes, I know," said Bobby dryly; "I had something to do with that,
myself."
"It was a fine lot of muck-raking you did," charged Clarence. "Well,
I'll give you another item for your paper. I have resigned from the
Consolidated."
"It was cruel of you."
"It was time," said Clarence, ignoring the flippancy. "Something's
going to drop over there."
Bobby smiled.
"It's always dropping," he agreed.
"This is the big drop," the other went on, with a wine-laden man's
pride in the fact of possessing valuable secrets. "They're going to
make a million-dollar bond issue."
"What for?" inquired Bobby.
"They need the money," chuckled Mr. Smythe. "Those city bonds, you
know."
"What bonds?" demanded Bobby eagerly, but trying to speak
nonchalantly.
Mr. Smythe suddenly realized the solemn gravity of his folly. Once
more he was talking too much. Once more! It was a thing to weep over.
"I'm a fool," he confessed in awe-stricken tones; "a rotten fool,
Burnit. I'm ashamed to look anybody in the face. I'm ashamed----"
"It's highly commendable of you, I'm sure," Bobby agreed, and took his
hasty leave before Clarence should begin to sob.
Immediately he called up Chalmers at his home.
"Chalmers," he demanded, "why must the Consolidated Illuminating and
Power Company purchase city bonds?"
Chalmers laughed.
"Originally so Sam Stone could lend money to the Consumers' Electric.
It is a part of their franchise, which is renewable at their option in
ten-year periods, and which became a part of the Consolidated's
property when the combine was effected. To insure 'faithful
performance of contract,' for which clause every crooked municipality
has a particular affection, they were to purchase a million dollars'
worth of city bonds. Each year one hundred thousand dollars' worth
were retired. In the tenth year, in renewing their franchise for the
next ten years, they were compelled to renew also their million
dollars of city bonds. These bonds they then used as collateral. Stone
carried all that he could, at enormous usury, I understand, and let
some of his banker friends in on the rest; and I suppose the banks
paid him a rake-off. The ten-year period is up this fall, and their
bonds are naturally retired; but, of course, they will renew."
"I'm not so sure about that," said Bobby. "Look up everything
connected with it in the morning, and I'll see you at noon."
When they met the next day at noon, however, before Bobby could talk
about the business in hand, Chalmers, with a suppressed smile, handed
him a folded slip of paper.
Bobby examined that legal document--a dissolution of the injunction
which had tied up a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in his bank for
more than two years--with a sigh of relief.
"It seems," said Chalmers dryly, "that at the time you laid yourself
liable to Madam Villenauve's breach-of-promise suit she had an
undivorced husband living, Monsieur Villenauve complacently hiding
himself in France and waiting for his share of the money. Let this be
a lesson to you, young man."
Bobby hotly resented that grin.
"I'll swear to you, Chalmers," he asserted, "I never so much as
thought of the woman except as a nuisance."
"I apologize, old man," said Chalmers. "But at least this will teach
you not to back any more grand opera companies."
"I prefer to talk about the electric situation," said Bobby severely.
"What have you found out about it?"
"That the Ebony Jewel Coal Company, a former Stone enterprise, has
threatened suit against the Consolidated for their bill. The
Consolidated is in a pinch and must raise money, not only to buy that
allotment of the new waterworks bonds, but to meet the Ebony's and
other pressing accounts. It must also float this bond issue, for it is
likely to fall behind even on its salary list."
"Fine!" said Bobby. "I can see a lot of good citizens in this town
holding stock in a bankrupt illuminating concern. Just watch this
thing, will you, Chalmers? About this nice, lucky hundred and fifty
thousand, we may count it as spent."
"What in?" asked Chalmers, smiling. "Do you think you can trust
yourself with all that money?"
"Hush," said Bobby. "Don't breathe it aloud. I'm going to buy up all
the Brightlight Electric stock I can find. It's too bad, Chalmers," he
added with a grin, "that as mayor of the city you could not, with
propriety, hold stock in this company," and although Chalmers tried to
call him back Bobby did not wait. He was too busy, he said.
His business was to meet Agnes and Mrs. Elliston for luncheon
down-town, and during the meal he happened to remark that Clarence
Smythe had determined to shake the dust of the city from his feet.
"I thought so," declared Agnes. "Aunt Constance, I'm afraid you'll
have to finish your shopping without me. I must call upon Mrs.
Smythe."
Mrs. Elliston frowned her disapproval, but she knew better than to
protest. Before Agnes called upon Mrs. Smythe, however, she dropped in
at the manufacturing concern of D. A. Elliston and Company.
"Uncle Dan, how much money of mine have you in charge just now?" she
demanded to know.
"Cash? About five or six thousand."
"And how much more could you raise on my property?"
"Right away? About fifteen, on bonds and such securities. This is no
time to sacrifice real estate."
"It isn't enough," said Agnes, frowning, and was silent for a time.
"You'll just have to loan me about ten thousand more."
"Oh, will I?" he retorted. "What for?"
"I want to make an investment."
"So I judged," he dryly responded. "Well, young lady, as your steward
I reckon I'll have to know something more about this investment before
I turn over any money."
With sparkling eyes and blushes that would come in spite of her, she
told him what she intended to do. When she had concluded, Dan Elliston
slapped his knees in huge joy.
"You shall have all the money you want," he declared.
Upon that same afternoon Bobby started to buy up, here and there,
nearly the entire stock of the Brightlight, purchasing it at an
absurdly low price. Then he went to De Graff, to Dan Elliston, and to
others to whose discretion he could trust. His own plans were well
under way when the Consolidated Illuminating and Power Company
announced, with a great flourish of trumpets, its new bond issue. The
_Bulletin_ made no comment upon this. It merely published the news
fact briefly and concisely--an unexpected attitude, which brought
surprise, then wonder, then suspicion to the office of the
_Chronicle_. The _Chronicle_ had been a Stone organ during the heydey
of Stone's prosperity; the _Bulletin_ had fought the Consolidated
tooth and toe-nail; the already criminally overcapitalized
Consolidated was about to float a new bond issue; the _Bulletin_ did
not fight this issue; _ergo_, the _Bulletin_ must have something to
gain by the issue.
The _Chronicle_ waited three days, then began to fight the bond issue
itself, which was precisely the effect for which Bobby had planned.
Grown astute, Bobby realized that if the bond issue failed the
Consolidated would go bankrupt at once instead of a year or so later.
The newspaper, however, which would force that bankruptcy would, by
that act, be the apparent means of losing a vast amount of money to
the poor investors of the town, and Bobby left that ungrateful task to
the _Chronicle_. He even went so far as to defend the Consolidated in
a mild sort of manner, a proceeding which fanned the _Chronicle_ into
fresh fury.
For three months desperate attempts were made by the Consolidated to
make the new bonds attractive to the public, but less than one hundred
thousand dollars was subscribed. Bobby was tabulating the known
results of this subscription with much satisfaction one morning when
Ferris walked into his office.
"I hope you didn't come into town to dig up another scandal, old man,"
said Bobby, greeting his contractor-friend with keen pleasure.
"No," said Ferris; "came in to give you a bit of news. The Great
Eastern and Western Railroad wants to locate its shop here, and is
building by private bid. I have secured the contract, subject to
certain alterations of price for distance of hauling and difficulty of
excavation; but the thing is liable to fall through for lack of a
location. They can't get the piece of property they are after, and
there is only one other one large enough and near enough to the city.
The chief engineer and I are going out to look at it again to-day.
Come with us. If we decide that the property will do, and if we can
secure it, you may have an exclusive news-item that would be very
pretty, I should judge." And Ferris smiled at some secret joke.
"I'll go with pleasure," said Bobby, "and not by any means just for
the news. When do you want to go?"
"Oh, right away, I guess. I'll telephone to Shepherd and have him
order a rig."
"What's the use?" demanded Bobby, much interested. "My car's right
within call. I'll have it brought up."
Shepherd, the chief engineer of the G. E. and W., when they picked him
up at the hotel, proved to be an entire human being with red whiskers
and not a care in the world. Bobby was enjoying a lot of preliminary
persiflage when Shepherd incidentally mentioned their destination.
"It is known as Westmarsh," he observed. "I suppose you know where it
is."
Bobby, who had already started the machine and had placed his hand on
the steering wheel, gave a jerk so violent that he almost sent the
machine diagonally across the street, and Ferris laughed aloud. His
little joke was no longer a secret.
"Westmarsh!" Bobby repeated. "Why, I own that undrainable swamp."
"Swamp?" exclaimed Shepherd. "It's as dry as a bone. I looked it over
last night and am going out to-day to study the possible approaches to
it."
"But you say it is dry!" protested Bobby, unable to believe it.
"Dry as powder," asserted Shepherd. "There has been an immense amount
of water out there, but it has been well taken care of by the splendid
drainage system that has been put in."
"It cost a lot of money to put in that drainage system," commented
Bobby; "but we found it impracticable to drain an entire river."
It was Shepherd's turn to be puzzled, a process in which he stopped to
laugh.
"This is the first time I ever heard an owner belittle his own
property," he declared. "I suppose that next you'll only accept half
the price we offer."
Bobby kept up his part of the conversation but feebly as they whirled
out to the site of the old Applerod Addition. He was lost in
speculation upon what could possibly have happened to that unfortunate
swamp area. When they arrived, however, he was surprised to find that
Shepherd had been correct. The ground, though sunken in places and
black with the residue of one-time stagnant water, was firm enough to
walk upon, and after many tests he even ran the machine across and
across it. Moreover, grass and weeds, forcing their way here and
there, were already beginning to hide and redeem the ugly earthen
surface.
Bobby surveyed the miracle in amazement. It was the first time he had
seen the place in a year. Even in his trips to the waterworks site,
which was just north, beyond the hill, he had chosen the longer and
less solid river road rather than to come past this spot of
humiliating memories.
"I can't understand it," he said again and again to the two men. "Why,
Mr. Shepherd, I spent thousands of dollars in filling this swamp and
draining it, with the idea of making a city subdivision here. Silas
Trimmer, the man from whom I bought the place, imagined it to be fed
by underground springs, but he let me spend a fortune to attract
people out to see my new building lots so that he could, without cost,
sell his own. That is his addition up there on the hills, and I'm glad
to say he has recently mortgaged it for all that it will carry."
"How about the springs?" asked Shepherd with a frown. "Did you find
them? You must have stopped them. Are they liable to break out again?"
"That's the worst of it," replied Bobby, still groping. "It wasn't
springs at all. It was a peculiar geological formation, some
disarranged strata leading beneath the hill from the river and
emptying into the bottom of this pond. All through the year it seeped
in faster than our extensive drainings could carry it away, and in the
spring and fall, when the river was high, it poured in. I don't see
what could have happened. Suppose we run over and see the engineer who
worked on this with me. He is now in charge of the new waterworks."
In five minutes they were over there. Jimmy Platt, out in his
shirt-sleeves under a broad-brimmed straw hat, greeted them most
cordially, but when Bobby explained to him the miracle that had
happened to the old Applerod Addition, Platt laughed until the tears
came into his eyes; and even after he stopped laughing there were
traces of them there.
"Come down here and I'll show you," said he.
Leading south from the pumping station, diagonally down the steep bank
to the river, had been built a splendid road, flanked on both sides by
very solid, substantial-looking retaining walls.
"You see this wall?" asked Jimmy, pointing to the inside one. "It runs
twenty feet below low-water level, and is solidly cemented. You
remember when I got permission to move this road from the north side
to the south side of the pumping station? I did that after an
examination of the subsoil. This wall cuts off the natural siphon that
fed the water to your Applerod Addition. I have been going past there
in huge joy twice a day, watching that swamp dry up."
"In other words," said Bobby, "you have been doing a little private
grafting on my account. How many additional dollars did that
extra-deep wall cost?"
"I'm not going to tell you," asserted Jimmy stoutly. "It isn't very
much, but whatever it is the city good and plenty owes you for saving
it over a million on this job. But if I'd had to pay for it myself I
would have done it to correct the mistake I made when I started to
drain that swamp for you. I guess this is about the most satisfactory
minute of my life," and he looked it.
"A fine piece of work," agreed Shepherd, casting a swift eye over the
immense and busy waterworks site, and then glancing at the hill across
which lay Bobby's property. "You're lucky to have had this chance, Mr.
Platt," and he shook hands cordially with Jimmy. "I'm perfectly
satisfied, Mr. Burnit. Do you want to sell that property?"
"If I can get out at a profit," replied Bobby. "Otherwise I'll regrade
the thing and split it up into building lots as I originally
intended."
"Let's go back down to the hotel and talk 'turkey,'" offered Shepherd
briskly. "What do you think of the place, Ferris? Will it do?"
"Fine!" said Ferris. "The property lies so low that we won't have to
cart away a single load of our excavation. If we can only get a
right-of-way through that natural approach to the northeast--"
"I think I can guarantee a right-of-way," interrupted Bobby, smiling,
with his mind upon the city council which had been created by his own
efforts.
"All right," said Shepherd. "We'll talk price until I have browbeaten
you as low as you will go. Then I'll prepare a plat of the place and
send it on to headquarters. You'll have an answer from them in three
days."
As they whirred away Bobby's eyes happened to rest upon a young man
and a young woman rowing idly down-stream in a skiff, and he smiled as
he recognized Biff Bates and Nellie Platt.
On the day Bobby got the money for his Westmarsh property old Applerod
came up from the office of the Brightlight Electric Company, where he
held a lazy, sleepy afternoon job as "manager," and with an
ingratiating smile handed Bobby a check for five thousand dollars.
"What's this for?" asked Bobby, puzzled.
"I have decided to give you back the money and take up again my
approximate one-fifth share in the Applerod Addition," announced that
gentleman complacently.
Bobby was entirely too much surprised at this to be amused.
"You're just a trifle too late, Mr. Applerod," said he. "Had you come
to me two weeks ago, when I thought the land was worthless, out of
common decency I would not have let you buy in again. Since then,
however, I have sold the tract at a profit of forty thousand dollars."
"You have?" exclaimed Applerod. "I heard you were going to do
something of the kind. I'm entitled to one-fifth of that profit, Mr.
Burnit--eight thousand dollars."
"You're entitled to a good, swift poke in the neck!" exclaimed the
voice of wizened old Johnson, who stood in the doorway, and who, since
his friendship with Biff Bates, had absorbed some of that gentleman's
vigorous vernacular. "Applerod, I'll give you just one minute to get
out of this office. If you don't I'll throw you downstairs!"
"Mr. Johnson," said Applerod with great dignity, "this office does not
belong to you. I have as much right here--"
Mr. Johnson, taking a trot around Bobby's desk so as to get Mr.
Applerod between him and the door, made a threatening demonstration
toward the rear, and Applerod, suddenly deserting his dignity, rushed
out. Bobby straightened his face as Johnson, still blazing, came in
from watching Applerod's ignominious retreat.
"Well, Johnson," said he, ignoring the incident as closed, "what can I
do for you to-day?"
"Nothing!" snapped Johnson. "I have forgotten what I came for!" and
going out he slammed the door behind him.
In the course of an hour Bobby was through with his morning allotment
of mail and his daily consultation with Jolter, and then he called
Johnson to his office.
"Johnson," said he, "I want you to do me a favor. There is one block
of Brightlight stock that I have not yet bought up. It is in the hands
of J. W. Williams, one of the old Stone crowd, who ought to be wanting
money by this time. He holds one hundred shares, which you should be
able to buy by now at fifty dollars a share. I want you to buy this
stock in your own name, and I want to loan you five thousand dollars
to do it with. I merely want voting power; so after you get it you may
hold it if you like and still owe me the five thousand dollars, or
I'll take it off your hands at any time you are tired of the
obligation. You'd better go to Barrister and have him buy the stock
for you."
"Yes, sir," said Johnson.
Bobby immediately went to De Graff.
"I came to subscribe for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth
of additional stock in the New Brightlight. I have just deposited two
hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars in your bank."
"You're becoming an expert," said De Graff with a quizzical smile.
"With the million dollars' valuation at which we are to buy in the
present Brightlight, the two hundred and fifty thousand subscribed for
by Dan Elliston, and the ten thousand held by Miss Elliston, this new
subscription about gives you control of the New Brightlight, don't
it?"
"That's what I want," Bobby exulted. "You don't object, do you?"
"Not on my own account," De Graff assured him; "but you'd better have
Barrister buy this in for you until we are organized. Then you can
take it over."
"I guess you're right," agreed Bobby. "I'll send Barrister right over,
and I think I shall make him take up the remaining ten thousand on his
own account. A week from to-night is the council meeting at which the
Consolidated must make good to renew their franchise, and we don't
want any hitch in getting our final incorporation papers by that time.
The members of the Consolidated are singing swan songs in seven
simultaneous keys at this very moment."
Bobby's description of the condition of the Consolidated was scarcely
exaggerated. It was a trying and a hopeless period for them. The bond
issue had failed miserably. It had not needed the _Chronicle_ to
remind the public of what a shaky proposition the Consolidated was,
for Bobby had thoroughly exposed the corporation during the
_Bulletin's_ campaign against Sam Stone. Bond-floating companies from
other cities were brought in, and after an examination of the books
threw up their hands in horror at the crudest muddle they had ever
found in any investigation of municipal affairs.
On the night of the council meeting, Sharpe and Trimmer and Williams,
representing the Consolidated, were compelled to come before the
council and confess their inability to take up the bonds required to
renew their franchise; but they begged that this clause, since it was
an entirely unnecessary one and was not enjoined upon gas or electric
companies in other cities, be not enforced. Council, however, was
obdurate, and the committee thereupon begged for a further extension
of time in which to raise the necessary amount of money. Council still
was obdurate, and by that obduracy the franchise of the Consumers'
Electric Company, said franchise being controlled by the Consolidated
Illuminating and Power Company, became null and void.
Thereupon Bobby Burnit, President De Graff and Dan Elliston,
representing the New Brightlight Electric Company, recently organized
for three million dollars, came forward and prayed for a franchise for
the electric lighting of the entire city, agreeing to take over the
poles and wiring of the Consolidated at a fair valuation; and council
was not at all obdurate, which was scarcely strange when one reflected
that every member of that municipal body had been selected and put in
place through the direct instrumentality of Bobby Burnit. It was
practical politics, true enough, but Bobby had no qualms whatever
about it.
"It may be quite true that I have not been actuated by any highly
noble motives in this," he confessed to a hot charge by Williams, "but
so long as in municipal affairs I am not actuated by any ignoble
motives I am doing pretty fairly in this town."
There was just the bare trace of brutality in Bobby as he said this,
and he suddenly recognized it in himself with dismay. What pity Bobby
might have felt for these bankrupt men, however, was swept away in a
gust of renewed aggressiveness when Trimmer, arousing himself from the
ashen age which seemed all at once to be creeping over him, said, with
a return of that old circular smile which had so often before
aggravated Bobby:
"I am afraid I'll have to draw out of my other ventures and retire on
my salary as president and manager of Trimmer and Company."
Vengefulness was in Bobby's eyes as he followed Trimmer's sprawling
figure, so much like a bloated spider's in its bigness of
circumference and its attenuation of limbs, that suddenly he shuddered
and turned away as when one finds oneself about to step upon a toad.