Chapter 18

by Upton Sinclair

　　Another month passed by. Montague was buried in his work, and hecaught but faint echoes of the storm that rumbled in the financialworld. It was a thing which he thought of with wonder in futuretimes--that he should have had so little idea of what was coming. Heseemed to himself like some peasant who digs with bent head in afield, while armies are marshalling for battle all around him; andwho is startled suddenly by the crash of conflict, and the burstingof shells about his head.

　　There came another great convulsion of the stock market. Stewart,the young Lochinvar out of the West, made an attempt to cornercopper. One heard wild rumours in relation to the crash whichfollowed. Some said that a traitor had sold out the pool; others,that there had been a quarrel among the conspirators. However thatmight be, copper broke, and once more there were howling mobs on thecurb, and a shudder throughout the financial district. Thensuddenly, like a thunderbolt, came tidings that a conference of thebig bankers had decreed that the young Lochinvar should be forcedout of his New York banks. There were rumours that other banks wereinvolved, and that there were to be more conferences. Then a coupleof days later came the news that all the banks of Cummings the IceKing were in trouble, and that he too had been forced from thefield.

　　Montague had never seen anything like the excitement in Wall Street.Everyone he met had a new set of rumours, wilder than the last. Itwas as if a great rift in the earth had suddenly opened before theeyes of the banking community. But Montague was at an importantcrisis in a suit which he had taken up against the Tobacco Trust;and he had no idea that he was in any way concerned in what wastaking place. The newspapers were all making desperate efforts toallay the anxiety--they said that all the trouble was over, that DanWaterman had come to the rescue of the imperilled institutions. AndMontague believed what he read, and went his way.

　　Three or four days after the crisis had developed, he had anengagement to dine with his friend Harvey. Montague was tired aftera long day in court, and as no one else was coming, and he did notintend to dress, he walked up town from his office to Harvey'shotel, a place of entertainment much frequented by Society people.Harvey rented an entire floor, and had had it redecorated especiallyto suit his taste.

　　"How do you do, Mr. Montague?" said the clerk, when he went to thedesk. "Mr. Harvey left a note for you."

　　Montague opened the envelope, and read a hurried scrawl to theeffect that Harvey had just got word that a bank of which he was adirector was in trouble, and that he would have to attend a meetingthat evening. He had telephoned both to Montague's office and to hishotel, without being able to find him.

　　Montague turned away. He had no place to go, for his own family wasout of town; consequently he strolled into the dining-room and ateby himself. Afterwards he came out into the lobby, and boughtseveral evening papers, and stood glancing over the head-lines.

　　Suddenly a man strode in at the door, and he looked up. It wasWinton Duval, the banker; Montague had never seen him since the timewhen they had parted in Mrs. Winnie's drawing-room. He did not seeMontague, but strode past, his brows knit in thought, and enteredone of the elevators.

　　A moment later Montague heard a voice at his side. "How do you do,Mr. Montague?"

　　He turned. It was Mr. Lyon, the manager of the hotel, whom SiegfriedHarvey had once introduced to him. "Have you come to attend theconference?" said he.

　　"Conference?" said Montague. "No."

　　"There's a big meeting of the bankers here to-night," remarked theother. "It's not supposed to be known, so don't mention it.--How doyou do, Mr. Ward?" he added, to a man who went past. "That's DavidWard."

　　"Ah," said Montague. Ward was known in the Street by the nickname ofWaterman's "office-boy." He was a high-salaried office-boy--Watermanpaid him a hundred thousand a year to manage one of the big insurancecompanies for him.

　　"So he's here, is he?" said Montague.

　　"Waterman is here himself," said Lyon. "He came in by the sideentrance. It's something especially secret, I gather--they've rentedeight rooms upstairs, all connecting. Waterman will go in at oneend, and Duval at the other, and so the reporters won't know they'retogether!"

　　"So that's the way they work it!" said Montague, with a smile.

　　"I've been looking for some of the newspaper men," Lyon added. "Butthey don't seem to have caught on."

　　He strolled away, and Montague stood watching the people in thelobby. He saw Jim Hegan come and enter the elevator, in company withan elderly man whom he recognised as Bascom, the president of theEmpire Bank, Waterman's own institution. He saw two other men whomhe knew as leading bankers of the System; and then, as he glancedtoward the desk, he saw a tall, broad-shouldered man, who had beentalking to the clerk, turn around, and reveal himself as his friendBates, of the Express.

　　"Humph!" thought Montague. "The newspaper men are 'on,' after all."

　　He saw Bates's glance sweep the lobby and rest upon him. Montaguemade a movement of greeting with his hand, but Bates did not reply.Instead, he strolled toward him, went by without looking at him,and, as he passed, whispered in a low, quick voice, "Please comeinto the writing-room!"

　　Montague stood for a moment, wondering; then he followed. Bates wentto a corner of the room and seated himself. Montague joined him.

　　The reporter darted a quick glance about, then began hastily:"Excuse me, Mr. Montague, I didn't want anyone to see us talking. Iwant to ask you to do me a favour."

　　"What is it?"

　　"I'm running down a story. It is something very important. I can'texplain it to you now, but I want to get a certain room in thishotel. You have an opportunity to do me the service of a lifetime.I'll explain it to you as soon as we are alone."

　　"What do you want me to do?" asked Montague.

　　"I want to rent room four hundred and seven," said Bates. "If Ican't get four hundred and seven, I want five hundred and seven, orsix hundred and seven. I daren't ask for it myself, because theclerk knows me. But he'll let you have it."

　　"But how shall I ask for it?" said Montague.

　　"Just ask," said Bates; "it will be all right."

　　Montague looked at him. He could see that his friend was labouringunder great excitement.

　　"Please! please!" he whispered, putting his hand on Montague's arm.And Montague said, "All right."

　　He got up and strolled into the lobby again, and went to the desk.

　　"Good evening, Mr. Montague," said the clerk. "Mr. Harvey hasn'treturned."

　　"I know it," said Montague. "I would like to get a room for theevening. I would like to be near a friend. Could I get a room on thefourth floor?"

　　"Fourth?" said the clerk, and turned to look at his schedule on thewall. "Whereabouts--front or back?"

　　"Have you four hundred and five?" asked Montague.

　　"Four hundred and five? No, that's rented. We have four hundred andone--four hundred and six, on the other side of the hall--fourhundred and seven--"

　　"I'll take four hundred and seven," said Montague.

　　"Four dollars a day," said the clerk, as he took down the key.

　　Not having any baggage, Montague paid in advance, and followed theboy to the elevator. Bates followed him, and another man, a littlewiry chap, carrying a dress-suit case, also entered with them, andgot out at the fourth floor.

　　The boy opened the door, and the three men entered the room. The boyturned on the light, and proceeded to lower the shades and thewindows, and to do enough fixing to earn his tip. Then he went out,closing the door behind him; and Bates sank upon the bed and put hishands to his forehead and gasped, "Oh, my God."

　　The young man who accompanied him had set down his suit-case, and henow sat down on one of the chairs, and proceeded to lean back andlaugh hilariously.

　　Montague stood staring from one to the other.

　　"My God, my God!" said Bates, again. "I hope I may never go throughwith a job like this---I believe my hair will be grey beforemorning!"

　　"You forget that you haven't told me yet what's the matter," saidMontague.

　　"Sure enough," said Bates.

　　And suddenly he sat up and stared at him.

　　"Mr. Montague," he exclaimed, "don't go back on us! You've no ideahow I've been working--and it will be the biggest scoop of alifetime. Promise me that you won't give us away!"

　　"I cannot promise you," said Montague, laughing in spite of himself,"until you tell me what it is."

　　"I'm afraid you are not going to like it," said Bates. "It was amean trick to play on you, but I was desperate. I didn't dare takethe risk myself, and Rodney wasn't dressed for the occasion."

　　"You haven't introduced your friend," said Montague.

　　"Oh, excuse me," said Bates. "Mr. Rodney, one of our office-men."

　　"And now tell me about it," said Montague, taking a seat.

　　"It's the conference," said Bates. "We got a tip about it an hour orso ago. They meet in the room underneath us."

　　"What of it?" asked Montague.

　　"We want to find out what's going on," said Bates.

　　"But how?"

　　"Through the window. We've got a rope here." And Bates pointedtoward the suitcase.

　　Montague stared at him, dumfounded. "A rope!" he gasped. "You aregoing to let him down from the window?"

　　"Sure thing," said Bates; "it's a rear window, and quite safe."

　　"But for Heaven's sake, man!" gasped the other, "suppose the ropebreaks?"

　　"Oh, it won't break," was the reply; "we've got the right sort ofrope."

　　"But how will you ever get him up again?" Montague exclaimed.

　　"That's all right," said Bates; "he can climb up, or else we can lethim down to the ground. We've got rope enough."

　　"But suppose he loses his grip! Suppose--"

　　"That's all right," said Bates, easily. "You leave that to Rodney.He's nimble--he began life as a steeple-jack. That's why I pickedhim."

　　Rodney grinned. "I'll take my chances," he said.

　　Montague gazed from one to the other, unable to think of anotherword to say.

　　"Tell me, Mr. Bates," he asked finally, "do you often do this inyour profession?"

　　"I've done it once before," was the reply. "I wanted somephotographs in a murder case. I've often tried back windows, andfire-escapes, and such things. I used to be a police reporter, youknow, and I learned bad habits."

　　"But," said Montague, "suppose you were caught?"

　　"Oh, pshaw!" said he. "The office would soon fix that up. The policenever bother a newspaper man."

　　There was a pause. "Mr. Montague," said Bates, earnestly, "I knowthis is a tough proposition--but think what it means. We get wordabout this conference. Waterman is here--and Duval--think of that!Dan Waterman and the Oil Trust getting together! The managing editorsent for me himself, and he said, 'Bates, get that story.' And whatam I to do? There's about as much chance of my finding out what goeson in that conference--"

　　He stopped. "Think of what it may mean, Mr. Montague," he cried."They will decide on to-morrow's moves! It may turn the stock marketupside down. Think of what you could do with the information!"

　　"No," said Montague, shaking his head; "don't go at me that way."

　　Bates was gazing at him. "I beg your pardon," he said; "but thenmaybe you have interests of your own; or your friends--surely thissituation--"

　　"No, not that either," said Montague, smiling; and Bates broke intoa laugh.

　　"Well, then," he said, "just for the sport of it! Just to foolthem!"

　　"That's more like it," said Montague.

　　"Of course, it's your room," said Bates. "You can stop us, if youinsist. But you needn't stay if you don't want to. We'll take allthe risk; and you may be sure that if we were caught, the hotelwould suppress it. You can trust me to clear your name--"

　　"I'll stay," said Montague. "I'll see it through."

　　Bates jumped up and stretched out his hand. "Good!" he cried. "Putit there!"

　　In the meantime, Rodney pounced upon the dress-suit case, and openedit, taking out a coil of wire rope, very light and flexible, and ashort piece of board. He proceeded to make a loop with the rope, andin this he fixed the board for a seat. He then took the blanketsfrom the bed and folded them. He took out a pair of heavy calfskingloves, which he tossed to Bates, and a ball of twine, one end ofwhich he tied about his wrist. He tossed the ball on the floor, andthen turned out the lights in the room, raised the shade of thewindow, and placed the bundle of blankets upon the sill.

　　"All ready," he said.

　　Bates put on the gloves and seized the rope, and Rodney adjusted theseat under his thighs. "You hold the blankets, if you will be sogood, Mr. Montague, and keep them in place, if you can."

　　And Bates uncoiled some of the rope, and passed it over the top ofthe large bureau which stood beside the window. He brought the ropedown to the middle of the body of the bureau, so that by this meanshe could diminish the pull of Rodney's weight.

　　"Steady now," said the latter; and he climbed over the sill, and,holding on with his hands, gradually put his weight against therope.

　　"Now! All ready," he whispered.

　　Bates grasped the line, and, bracing his knees against the bureau,paid the rope out inch by inch. Montague held the blankets in placein the corner, and Rodney's shoulders and head gradually disappearedbelow the sill. He was still holding on with his hands, however.

　　"All right," he whispered, and let go, and slowly the rope slidpast.

　　Montague's heart was beating fast with excitement, but Bates wascalm and businesslike. After he had let out several turns of therope, he stopped and whispered, "Look out now."

　　Montague leaned over the sill. He could see a stream of light fromthe window below him. Rodney was standing upon the cornice at thetop of the window.

　　"Lower," said Montague, as he drew in his head, and once more Batespaid out.

　　"Now," he whispered, and Montague looked again. Rodney had cleverlypushed himself by the corner of the cornice, and kept himself at oneside of the window, so that he would not be visible from the insideof the room. He made a frantic signal with his hand, and Montaguedrew back and whispered, "Lower!"

　　The next time he looked out, Rodney was standing upon the sill ofthe window, leaning to one side.

　　"Now, make fast," muttered Bates. And while he held the rope,Montague took it and wound it again around the bureau, and thencarried it over and made it fast to the leg of the bath-tub.

　　"I guess that will hold all right," said Bates; and he went to thewindow and picked up the ball of cord, the other end of which wastied around Rodney's wrist.

　　"This is for signals," he said. "Morse telegraph."

　　"Good heavens!" gasped Montague. "You didn't leave much to chance."

　　"Couldn't afford to," said Bates. "Keep still!"

　　Montague saw that the hand which held the cord was being jerked.

　　"W-i-n-d-o-w o-p-e-n," said Bates; and added, "By the Lord! we'vegot them!"