ranscontinental Company.

"Hello, Dick! made a mistake, didn't you--coming while I was here?" said
the reformer, with a very lifelike replica of his father's grim smile.
"I suppose you have an immediate engagement to go somewhere else, or to
do something that will give you a chance to dodge?"

"No; I wish to the Lord I had!" was the hearty admission. "You're a
fright, Evan; you are getting to be a perfect nightmare, with your
letters and telegrams. You've got me so I'm afraid to open my desk."

Blount nodded gravely. "I'm glad the letters and telegrams have had
their effect at last," he rejoined.

"Had their effect? Yes, they've had the effect of turning my hair gray,
if that's what you mean."

"I think you know what I mean, Dick."

"I'll be hanged if I do. What are you driving at?"

"At the fact that you have finally concluded to cancel the crooked deals
with--wait, and I'll give you the names of the co-respondents"--and he
drew a packet of neatly docketed letters from his pocket.

"Hold on a minute," protested the traffic manager; "you're getting in
rather too deep for me. Will you let me see those letters?"

Blount put the letters back into his pocket and mechanically buttoned
his light top-coat over them for additional safety.

"Do you mean to say that you haven't passed the word to Hathaway and
McDarragh and a dozen others I could name?" he asked.

"Of course I haven't. You call yourself a lawyer, and yet you ask us to
set aside promises that are, or ought to be, as binding as so many
written contracts with penalties attached. You're crazy, Evan; it can't
be done, and that's all there is to it."

Blount was frowning thoughtfully. "'Can't' goes out of the window when
'must' comes in at the door, Dick. You remember what I told you--that
I'd get evidence, lawyer-fashion. I've got it; evidence of the sort that
would turn the people of this State into a howling mob to tear up your
tracks if I should publish it."

"But I tell you we _can't_ withdraw the specials, you wild-eyed
fanatic!"

"All right; then level down the public's rates to fit them. And do it
quickly, old man. The time is growing fearfully short, and my patience
isn't what it used to be."

"My Lord! anybody would think you owned the Transcontinental Company,
lock, stock, and barrel! Where under heaven did you get your nerve,
Evan? Blest if I don't believe you could out-bluff the old--er--your
father, himself, if you once got the fool notio