hat
nanny-whiskered old galoot was sunk in too many fathoms of water ever
to wade ashore. (He smiled at his poor pun.) The missing
power-of-attorney that had scuttled the Lawson supporters would
continue missing for all time to come. Mr. J. Cuthbert Nickleby, the
then genial secretary, had seen to that once for all; in fact, it had
been a charred fragment of the document which Mr. Hugh Podmore had used
as a card of introduction when he had had his first long and very
interesting session with Friend Nickleby.
Some class to Nickleby all right. Here were methods which Mr. Podmore
could understand and admire. It was because the minds of Messrs.
Podmore and Nickleby ran in the same grooves that he had been able to
unearth enough of Nickleby's very private plans to persuade that
"rising young financier" that it was better to set another plate at the
head table than to have the dishes smashed and Lucullus waylaid before
he could reach the banquetting-hall.
So Mr. Podmore had hung up his hat, accepted a cigar and joined the
inner ring, soon proving himself a congenial spirit and an able
counsellor. And inasmuch as President Wade, of the Canadian Lake
Shores Railroad, was seeking about that time for a private secretary
with a newspaper training; inasmuch as it was known to J. Cuthbert
Nickleby that the said President Wade hoped to restore Old Nat Lawson
to his former place in the business world by acquiring control of the
Interprovincial Loan & Savings Company--inasmuch did it seem desirable
in the interests of Messrs. Nickleby and Podmore that Mr. Podmore
should apply for the vacant secretaryship. Podmore had got the
position, thereby enabling Nickleby to keep a finger upon the pulse of
his opposition.
Wade was shrewd, clever, a big man; he knew many things, did Benjamin
Wade, railway magnate. But, reflected Hughey, there were many things
also which he did not know, and there was a disagreeable twist in the
corner of Podmore's mouth as he lounged and smoked. His revered chief
did not know, for instance, that his very competent secretary had spent
the better part of an afternoon alone in the private car "Obaska,"
listening to the click of the tumblers in the little secret wall safe
which the President had had built in behind a sliding panel--listening
so intelligently that the said very competent secretary had come away
with the combination.
Podmore's further enjoyment of retrospection was cut short by a sudden
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