Chapter 17

by Upton Sinclair

　　The summer wore on. At the end of August Alice returned from Newportfor a couple of days, having some shopping to do before she joinedthe Prentices at their camp in the Adirondacks.

　　Society had here a new way of enjoying itself. People builtthemselves elaborate palaces in the wilderness, and lived in afantastic kind of rusticity, with every luxury of civilisationincluded. For this life one needed an entirely separate wardrobe,with doeskin hunting-boots and mountain-climbing skirts--all verypicturesque and expensive. It reminded Montague of a jest that hehad heard about Mrs. Vivie Patton, whose husband had complained ofthe expensiveness of her costumes, and requested her to wear simplerdresses. "Very well," she said, "I will get a lot of simple dressesimmediately."

　　Alice spent one evening at home, and she took her cousin into herconfidence. "I've an idea, Allan, that Harry Curtiss is going to askme to marry him. I thought it was right to tell you about it."

　　"I've had a suspicion of it," said Montague, smiling.

　　"Harry has a feeling you don't like him," said the girl. "Is thattrue?"

　　"No," replied Montague, "not precisely that." He hesitated.

　　"I don't understand about it," she continued. "Do you think I oughtnot to marry him?"

　　Montague studied her face. "Tell me," he said, "have you made upyour mind to marry him?"

　　"No," she answered, "I cannot say that I have."

　　"If you have," he added, "of course there is no use in my talkingabout it."

　　"I wish you would tell me just what happened between you and him,"exclaimed the girl.

　　"It was simply," said Montague, "that I found that Curtiss wasdoing, in a business way, something which I considered improper.Other people are doing it, of course--he has that excuse."

　　"Well, he has to earn a living," said Alice.

　　"I know," said the other; "and if he marries, he will have to earnstill more of a living. He will only place himself still tighter inthe grip of these forces of corruption."

　　"But what did he do?" asked Alice, anxiously. Montague told her thestory.

　　"But, Allan," she said, "I don't see what there is so very bad aboutthat. Don't Ryder and Price own the railroad?"

　　"They own some of it," said Montague. "Other people own some."

　　"But the other people have to take their chances," protested thegirl; "if they choose to have anything to do with men like that."

　　"You are not familiar with business," said the other, "and you don'tappreciate the situation. Curtiss was elected a director--heaccepted a position of trust."

　　"He simply did it as a favour to Price," said she. "If he hadn'tdone it, Price would only have got somebody else. As you say, Allan,I don't understand much about it, but it seems to me it isn't fairto blame a young man who has to make his way in the world, and whosimply does what he finds everybody else doing. Of course, you knowbest about your own affairs; but it always did seem to me that yougo out of your way to look for scruples."

　　Montague smiled sadly. "That sounds very much like what he said,Alice. I guess you have made up your mind to marry him, after all."

　　Alice set out, accompanied by Oliver, who was bound for BertieStuyvesant's imitation baronial castle, in another part of themountains. Betty Wyman was also to be there, and Oliver was to spenda full month. But three days later Montague received a telegram,saying that his brother would arrive in New York shortly after eightthat morning, and to wait at his home for him. Montague suspectedwhat this meant; and he had time enough to think it over and make uphis mind. "Well?" he said, when Oliver came in. "It's come again,has it?"

　　"Yes," said Oliver, "it has."

　　"Another 'sure thing'?"

　　"Dead sure. Are you coming in?" Oliver asked, after a moment.

　　Montague shook his head. "No," he said. "I think once was enough forme."

　　"You don't mean that, Allan!" protested the other.

　　"I mean it," was the reply.

　　"But, my dear fellow, that is perfectly insane! I have informationstraight from the inside--it's as certain as the sunrise!"

　　"I have no doubt of that," responded Montague. "But I am throughwith gambling in Wall Street. I've seen enough of it, Oliver, andI'm sick of it. I don't like the emotions it causes in me--I don'tlike the things it makes me do."

　　"You found the money came in useful, didn't you?" said Oliver,sarcastically.

　　"Yes, I can use what I've got."

　　"And when that's gone?"

　　"I don't know about that yet. But I'll find some way that I likebetter."

　　"All right," said Oliver; "it's your own lookout. I will make my ownlittle pile."

　　They rode down town in a cab together. "Where does your informationcome from this time?" asked Montague.

　　"The same source," was the reply.

　　"And is it Transcontinental again?"

　　"No," said Oliver; "it's another stock."

　　"What is it?"

　　"It's Mississippi Steel," was the answer.

　　Montague turned and stared at him. "Mississippi Steel!" he gasped.

　　"Why, yes," said Oliver. "What's that to you?" he added, inperplexity.

　　"Mississippi Steel!" Montague ejaculated again. "Why, didn't youknow about my relations with the Northern Mississippi Railroad?"

　　"Of course," said Oliver; "but what's that got to do withMississippi Steel?"

　　"But it's Price who is managing the deal--the man who owns theMississippi Steel Company!"

　　"Oh," said the other, "I had forgotten that." Oliver's duties inSociety did not give him much time to ask about his brother'saffairs.

　　"Allan," he added quickly, "you won't say anything about it!"

　　"It's none of my business now," answered the other. "I'm out of it.But naturally I am interested to know. What is it--a raid on thestock?"

　　"It's going down," said Oliver.

　　Montague sat staring ahead of him. "It must be the Steel Trust," hewhispered, half to himself.

　　"Nothing more likely," was the reply. "My tip comes from thatdirection."

　　"Do you suppose they are going to try to break Price?"

　　"I don't know; I guess they could do it if they made up their mindto."

　　"But he owns a majority of the stock!" said Montague. "They can'ttake it away from him outright."

　　"Not if he's got it locked up in his safe," was the reply; "and ifhe's got no debts or obligations. But suppose he's overextended; andsuppose some bank has loaned him money on the stock--what then?"

　　Montague was now keenly interested. He went with his brother whilethe latter drew his money from the bank, and called at his brokersand ordered them to sell Mississippi Steel. The other was calledaway then by an engagement in court, which occupied him for severalhours; when he came out, he made for the nearest ticker, and thefirst figures he saw were Mississippi Steel--quoted at nearly twentypoints below the price of the morning!

　　The bare figures were eloquent to him of many tragedies; theybrought before him half a dozen different personalities, with theirtriumphs and despairs. He could read in them the story of a Titanstruggle. Oliver had made his killing; but what of Price and Ryder?Montague knew that most of Price's stock was hypothecated at theGotham Trust. And now what would become of it? And what would becomeof the Northern Mississippi?

　　He bought the afternoon papers. Their columns were full of thesensational events of the day. The bottom had dropped out ofMississippi Steel, as they phrased it. The wildest rumours wereafloat. The Company was known to be making enormous extensions, andit was said to have overreached itself; there were whispers that itsofficers had been speculating, that the Company would be unable tomeet the next quarterly payment upon its bonds, that a receivershipwould be necessary. There were hints that the concern was to betaken over by the Trust, but this was vigorously denied by officersof the latter.

　　All of which had come like a bolt out of the blue. To Montague itwas an amazing and terrible thing. It counted little to him that hewas out of the struggle himself; that he no longer had anything tolose personally. He was like a man who had been through anearthquake, and who stood and stared at a gaping crack in theground. Even though he was safe at the moment, he could not forgetthat this was the earth upon which he had to spend the rest of hislife, and that the next crack might open where he stood.

　　Montague could not see that there was the least chance for Price andRyder; he pictured them bowled clean out, and he would not have beensurprised to read that they were ruined. But apparently theyweathered the storm. The episode passed with no more than a crop ofrumours. Mississippi Steel did not go back, however; and he noticedthat Northern Mississippi stock had also "gone off" eight or tenpoints on the curb.

　　It was a period of great anxiety in the financial world. Men feltthe unrest, even though they could not give definite reasons. Therehad been several panics in the stock market throughout the summer;and leading financiers and railroad presidents seemed to have gotthe habit of prognosticating the ruin of the country every time theymade a speech at a banquet.

　　But apparently men could not agree about the causes of the trouble.Some insisted that it was owing to the speeches of the President, tohis attacks upon the great business interests of the country. Othersmaintained that the world's supply of capital was inadequate, andpointed out the destruction of great wars and earthquakes and fires.Others argued that there was not enough currency to do the country'sbusiness. Now and again there rose above the din the shrill voice ofsome radical who declared that the stock collapses had been broughtabout deliberately; but such statements seemed so preposterous thatthey were received with ridicule whenever they were heeded at all.To Montague the idea that there were men in the country sufficientlypowerful to wreck its business, and sufficiently unscrupulous to usetheir power--the idea seemed to him sensational and absurd.

　　But he had a talk about it one evening with Major Venable, wholaughed at him. The Major named half a dozen men--Waterman and Duvaland Wyman among them--who controlled ninety per cent of the banks inthe Metropolis. They controlled all three of the big insurancecompanies, with their resources of four or five hundred milliondollars; one of them controlled a great transcontinental railroadsystem, which alone kept a twenty-or thirty-million dollar "surplus"for stock-gambling purposes.

　　"If any two or three of those men were to make up their minds,"declared the Major, "they could wreck the business of this countryin a day. If there were stocks they wanted to pick up, they couldknock them to any price they chose."

　　"How would they do it?" asked the other.

　　"There are many ways. You noticed that the last big slump began withthe worst scarcity of money the Street has known for years. Nowsuppose those men should gradually accumulate a lot of cash in thebanks, and make an agreement to withdraw it at a certain hour.Suppose that the banks that they own, and the banks where they owndirectors, and the insurance companies which they control--supposethey all did the same! Can't you imagine the scurrying around formoney, the calling in of loans, the rush to realise on holdings? Andwhen you have a public as nervous as ours is, when you have creditstretched to the breaking-point, and everybody involved--don't yousee the possibilities?"

　　"It seems like playing with dynamite," said Montague.

　　"It's not as bad as it might be," was the answer. "We are saved bythe fact that these big men don't get together. There are too manyjealousies and quarrels. Waterman wants easy money, and gets theTreasury Department to lend ten millions; Wyman, on the other hand,wants high prices, and he goes into the Street and borrows fifteenmillions; and so it goes. There are a half dozen big banking groupsin the city--"

　　"They are still competing, then?" asked Montague.

　　"Oh, yes," said the Major. "For instance, they fight for thepatronage of the out-of-town banks. The banks all over the countrysend their reserves to New York; it's a matter of four or fivehundred million dollars, and that's an enormous power. Some of thebig banks are agents for one or two thousand institutions, andthere's the keenest kind of struggle going on. It's not an easything to follow, of course; but they offer all kinds of secretadvantages--there's more graft in it than you'd find in Russia."

　　"I see," said Montague.

　　"There's only one thing about which the banks are agreed," continuedthe other. "That is their hatred of the independent trust companies.You see, the national banks have to keep twenty-five per centreserve, while the trust companies only keep five per cent.Consequently they do a faster business, and they offer four percent, and advertise widely, and they are simply driving the banks tothe wall. There are over fifty of them in this city alone, andthey've got over a billion of the people's money. And, mark my word,that is where you'll see blood spilled before long."

　　And Montague was destined to remember the prophecy.

　　A couple of days later occurred an incident which gave him a newlight upon the situation. His brother came around one afternoon,with a letter in his hand. "Allan," he said, "what do you make ofthis?"

　　Montague glanced at it, and saw that it was from Lucy Dupree.

　　"My dear Ollie," it read. "I find myself in an embarrassingposition, owing to the fact that some business arrangements uponwhich I had counted have fallen through. The money which I broughtwith me to New York is nearly all gone, and, as you can understand,my position as a stranger is a difficult one. I have a note whichStanley Ryder gave me for my stock. It is for a hundred and fortythousand dollars, and is due in three months. It occurred to me thatyou might know someone who has some ready cash, and who would liketo purchase the note. I should be very glad to sell it for a hundredand thirty thousand. Please do not mention it except in confidence."

　　"Now, what in the world do you suppose that means?" said Oliver.

　　The other stared at him. "I am sure I can't imagine," he replied.

　　"How much money did Lucy have when she came here?"

　　"She had three or four thousand dollars. But then, she got tenthousand from Stanley Ryder when he bought that stock."

　　"She can't have spent any such sum of money!" exclaimed Oliver.

　　"She may have invested it," said the other, thoughtfully.

　　"Invested nothing!" exclaimed Oliver.

　　"But that's not what puzzles me," said Montague. "Why doesn't Ryderdiscount the note himself?"

　　"That's just it! What business has he letting Lucy hawk his notesabout the town?"

　　"Maybe he doesn't know it. Maybe she's trying to keep her affairsfrom him."

　　"Nonsense!" Oliver replied. "I don't believe anything of the sort.What I think is that Stanley Ryder is doing it himself."

　　"How do you mean?" asked Montague, in perplexity.

　　"I believe that he is trying to get his own note discounted. I don'tbelieve that Lucy would ever come to us of herself. She'd starvefirst. She's too proud."

　　"But Stanley Ryder!" protested Montague. "The president of theGotham Trust Company!"

　　"That's all right," said Oliver. "It's his own note, and not theTrust Company's; and I'll wager you he's hard up for cash. There wasa big realty company that failed the other day, and I saw that Ryderwas one of the stockholders. And he's been hit by that MississippiSteel slump, and I'll wager you he's scurrying around to raisemoney. It's just like Lucy, too. Before he gets through, he'll takeevery dollar she owns."

　　Montague said nothing for a minute or two. Suddenly he clenched hishands. "I must go up and see her," he said.

　　Lucy had moved from the expensive hotel to which Oliver had takenher, and rented an apartment on Riverside Drive. Montague went upearly the next morning.

　　She came and stood in the doorway of the drawing-room and looked athim. He saw that she was paler than she had been, and with lines ofpain upon her face.

　　"Allan!" she said. "I thought you would come some day. How could youstay away so long?"

　　"I didn't think you would care to see me," he said.

　　She did not answer. She came and sat down, continuing to gaze athim, with a kind of fear in her eyes.

　　Suddenly he stretched out his hands to her. "Lucy!" he exclaimed."Won't you come away from here? Won't you come, before it is toolate?"

　　"Where can I go?" she asked.

　　"Anywhere!" he said. "Go back home."

　　"I have no home," she answered.

　　"Go away from Stanley Ryder," said Montague. "He has no right to letyou throw yourself away."

　　"He has not let me, Allan," said Lucy. "You must not blame him--Icannot bear it." She stopped.

　　"Lucy," he said, after a pause, "I saw that letter you wrote toOliver."

　　"I thought so," said she. "I asked him not to. It wasn't fair--"

　　"Listen," he said. "Will you tell me what that means? Will you tellme honestly?"

　　"Yes, I will tell you," she said, in a low voice.

　　"I will help you if you are in trouble," he continued; "but I willnot help Stanley Ryder. If you are permitting him to use you--"

　　"Allan!" she gasped, in sudden excitement. "You don't think that heknew I wrote?"

　　"Yes, I thought it," said he.

　　"Oh, how could you!" she cried.

　　"I knew that he was in trouble."

　　"Yes, he is in trouble, and I wanted to help him, if I could. It wasa crazy idea, I know; but it was all I could think of."

　　"Oh, I understand," said Montague.

　　"And don't you see that I cannot leave him?" exclaimed Lucy. "Now ofall times--when he needs help--when his enemies have surrounded him?I'm the only person in the world who cares anything about him--whoreally understands him--"

　　Montague could think of nothing to say.

　　"I know how it hurts you," said Lucy, "and don't think that I havenot cared. It is a thought that never leaves me! But some day I knowthat you will understand; and the rest of the world--I don't carewhat the world says."

　　"All right, Lucy," he answered, sadly. "I see that I can't be of anyhelp to you. I won't trouble you any more."