t of the Boyne
interests, as Scherer says, and Dickinson is ready with the money for
the reorganization. If the Carlisle people and the Lake Shore get it,
the product will be shipped out by the L and G, and the Railroad will
lose. What would Barbour say?"

Mr. Barbour, as I have perhaps mentioned, was the president of the
Railroad, and had his residence in the other great city of the state. He
was then, I knew, in the West.

"We've got to act now," insisted Mr. Watling. "That's open and shut.
If you have any other plan, I wish you'd trot it out. If not, I want
a letter to Paul Varney and the governor. I'm going to send Paret down
with them on the night train."

It was clear to me then, in the discussion following, that Mr. Watling's
gift of persuasion, though great, was not the determining factor in
Mr. Gorse's decision. He, too, possessed boldness, though he preferred
caution. Nor did the friendship between the two enter into the
transaction. I was impressed more strongly than ever with the fact
that a lawsuit was seldom a mere private affair between two persons or
corporations, but involved a chain of relationships and nine times
out of ten that chain led up to the Railroad, which nearly always was
vitally interested in these legal contests. Half an hour of masterly
presentation of the situation was necessary before Mr. Gorse became
convinced that the introduction of the bill was the only way out for all
concerned.

"Well, I guess you're right, Theodore," he said at length. Whereupon
he seized his pen and wrote off two notes with great rapidity. These he
showed to Mr. Watling, who nodded and returned them. They were folded
and sealed, and handed to me. One was addressed to Colonel Paul Varney,
and the other to the Hon. W. W. Trulease, governor of the state.

"You can trust this young man?" demanded Mr. Gorse.

"I think so," replied Mr. Watling, smiling at me. "The bill was his own
idea."

The railroad attorney wheeled about in his chair and looked at me;
looked around me, would better express it, with his indefinite,
encompassing yet inclusive glance. I had riveted his attention. And from
henceforth, I knew, I should enter into his calculations. He had made
for me a compartment in his mind.

"His own idea!" he repeated.

"I merely suggested it," I was putting in, when he cut me short.

"Aren't you the son of Matthew Paret?"

"Yes," I said.

He gave me a queer glance, the significance of which I left
u