company, when
done by the President, they promptly ratified; and indeed they had for
many years made it palpable to the meanest intelligence that they
considered James Wintermuth the head, brain, heart, and all the other
vital organs of the company which they--nominally--directed. In short,
James Wintermuth _was_ the Guardian.

There was in all the Street one man alone who would have taken
exception to this analysis--and he kept his opinion securely locked in
his secretive, his very secretive brain. This man was F. Mills
O'Connor, Vice-President of the Guardian.

CHAPTER V

"Turn up Providence Two," said Mr. O'Connor. As the gentleman in
question appeared at his office door en route to the map desk, his
asperity of manner seemed to Herbert, the map clerk, even more
pronounced than usual, and his voice was fully accordant. It was never
a dulcet organ, at best; but its owner rarely felt that his business
transactions could be assisted by the employment of flute notes; when
he did, he sank his tones to a confidential whisper intended to flatter
and impress his auditor, and it usually seemed to serve the purpose.
But with his map clerks and his subordinates generally he gave free
play to his natural raucousness, and he probably acted upon excellent
judgment.

Herbert, whose eye and ear from long practice had grown to detect the
exact degree of urgency in every call, with the agility of his
Darwinian ancestry quickened by his native wit, dashed over to the desk
under which the Rhode Island maps reposed. He swung the big gray-bound
volume up onto the broad, flat counter with all the skill of a
successful vaudeville artist, and none too soon, for he who had
demanded it was at his elbow.

"What page do you want, Mr. O'Connor?" asked Herbert.

The Vice-president glanced at the daily report he held in his hand, and
turned back the yellow telegraph blank that was pinned to it.

"Sheet one fifty-six," he said shortly. "No--one _fifty_-six. That
will do." He turned to a boy. "Find out for me if Mr. Wintermuth is
in his office."

The boy, whose name was Jimmy, sped off, soliloquizing as he went:
"Gee, there must be somethin' up to get O'C. as hot as that!" Arrived
at the opposite end of the big room, he reconnoitered for a view of the
President's office. By virtue of some little strategy he presently
managed to catch sight of Mr. Wintermuth, seated at his desk, pen in
hand, in his most magisterial attitude