Part 45 (1/2)
Tetlow shook his large, impressively molded head. ”Shady,” said he.
”Shady.”
Norman smiled with good-natured patience. ”You sound like Burroughs or Galloway when they are denouncing a man for trying to get rich by the same methods they pursued. My dear Bill, don't be one of those lawyers who will do the queer work for a client but not for themselves. There's no sense, no morality, no intelligent hypocrisy even, in that. We didn't create the commercial morality of the present day. For G.o.d's sake, let's not be of the poor fools who practice it but get none of its benefits.”
Tetlow s.h.i.+fted uneasily. ”I don't like to hear that sort of thing,” said he, apologetic and nervous.
”Is it true?”
”Yes. But--d.a.m.n it, I don't like to hear it.”
”That is to say, you're willing to pay the price of remaining small and obscure just for the pleasure of indulging in a wretched hypocrisy of a self-deception. Bill, come out of the small cla.s.s. Whether you go in with me or not, come out of the cla.s.s of understrappers. What's the difference between the big men and their little followers? Why, the big men _see_. They don't deceive themselves with the cant they pour out for the benefit of the ignorant mob.”
Tetlow was listening like a pupil to a teacher. That was always his att.i.tude toward Norman.
”The big men,” continued Norman, ”know that canting is necessary--that one must always profess high and disinterested motives, and so on, and so on. But they don't let their hypocritical talk influence their actions. How is it with the little fellows? Why, they believe the flapdoodle the leaders talk. They go into the enterprise, do all the small dirty work, lie and cheat and steal, and hand over the proceeds to the big fellows, for the sake of a pat on the back and a noisy 'Honest fellow! Here are a few crumbs for you.' And crumbs are all that a weak, silly, hypocritical fool deserves. Can you deny it?”
”No doubt you're right, Fred,” conceded Tetlow. ”But I'm afraid I haven't the nerve.”
”Come in behind me. I've got nerve for two--_now_!”
At that triumphant ”now” Tetlow looked curiously at his friend. ”Yes, _it_ has changed you--changed you back to what you were. I don't understand.”
”It isn't necessary that you understand,” rejoined Norman.”
”Do you think you could really carry through that scheme you've just outlined?”
”I see it fascinates you.”
”I've no objection to rising to the cla.s.s of big men,” said Tetlow. ”But aren't you letting your confidence in yourself deceive you?”
”Did I ever let it deceive me?”
”No,” confessed Tetlow. ”I've often watched you, and thought you'd fall through it, or stumble at least. But you never did.”
”And shall I tell you why? Because I use my self-confidence and my hopefulness and all my optimistic qualities only to create an atmosphere of success. But when it comes to planning a move of any kind, when I a.s.semble my lieutenants round the council board in my brain, I never permit a single cheerful one to speak, or even to enter. It's a serious, gloomy circle of faces, Bill.”
Tetlow nodded reminiscently. ”Yes, you always were like that, Fred.”
”And the one who does the most talking at my council is the gloomiest of all. He's Lieutenant Flawpicker. He can't see any hope for anything.
He sees all the possibilities of failure. He sees all the chances against success. And what's the result? Why, when the council rises it has taken out of the plan every chance of mishap that my intelligence could foresee and it has provided not one but several safe lines of orderly retreat in case success proves impossible.”
Tetlow gazed at Norman in wors.h.i.+pful admiration. ”What a brain! What a mind!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”And to think that _you_ could be upset by a _woman_!”
Norman leaned back in his chair smiling broadly. ”Not by a woman,” he corrected. ”By a girl--an inexperienced girl of twenty.”
”It seems incredible.”
”A grain of dust, dropped into a watch movement in just the right place--you know what happens.”
Tetlow nodded. Then, with a sharp, anxious look, ”But it's all over?”