timores like ours; that among the peaks
and canyons further west were the Lattimores of mines; that along the
Pacific were the Lattimores of harbors and deep-water terminals; that
every one of these Lattimores had in the East and in Europe its
clientage of Barr-Smiths, Wickershams, and Dorrs, feeding the flames of
the fever with other people's money; and that in every village and
factory, town and city, where wealth had piled up, seeking investment,
were the "captives below decks," who, in the complex machinery of this
end-of-the-century life, were made or marred by the same influences
which made or marred us.

The low area had swept across the seas, and now rested on us. The clouds
were charged with the thunder and lightning of disaster. Almost any
accidental disturbance might precipitate a crash. Had we known all this,
as we now know it, the consciousness of the tragical race we were
running to reach the harbor of a consummated sale to Pendleton might
have paralyzed our efforts. Sometimes one may cross in the dark, on
narrow footing, a chasm the abyss of which, if seen, would dizzily draw
one down to destruction.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Beginning of the End.

Court parties and court factions are always known to the populace, even
down to the groom and scullions. So the defection of Cornish soon became
a matter of gossip at bars, in stables, and especially about the desks
of real-estate offices. Had it been a matter of armed internecine
strife, the Elkins faction would have mustered an overwhelming majority;
for Jim's bluff democratic ways, and his apparent identity of fibre with
the mass of the people, would have made him a popular idol, had he been
a thousand times a railroad president.

While these rumors of a feud were floating about, Captain Tolliver went
to Jim's office several times, dressed with great care, and sat in
silence, and in stiff and formal dignity, for a matter of five minutes
or so, and then retired, with the suggestion that if there was any way
in which he could serve Mr. Elkins he should be happy.

"Do you know," said Jim to me, "that I'm afraid Hamlet's 'bugs and
goblins' are troubling Tolliver; in other words, that he's getting
bughouse?"

"No," said I; "while I haven't the slightest idea what ails him, you'll
find that it's something quite natural for him when you get a full view
of his case."

Finally, Jim, in thanking him for his proffered assistance, inquired
diplomatically af