Part 32 (1/2)
”I'm honestly sorry,”--began Wheaton. ”I had no idea you were depending on me. You ought to have known that I couldn't betray Mr. Porter.”
”You ought to be sorry,” said Margrave dolefully. ”But, look here, Jim, I don't believe you're going to do me up on this.”
”I'm not going to do anybody up; but I don't see what I can do to help you.”
”Well, I do. You gave me to understand that you were buying this stuff yourself. You still got what you had?”
Margrave knew from the secretary of the company that Wheaton owned one hundred shares. He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at Wheaton appealingly.
”Yes,” Wheaton answered reluctantly. He knew now why he had been summoned.
”Now, how many shares have you, Jim?” with increasing amiability of tone and manner.
”Just what I bought in the beginning; one hundred shares.”
Margrave took a pad from his desk and added one hundred to a short column of figures. He made the footing and regarded the total with careless interest before looking up.
”How much do you want for that, Jim?”
”To tell the truth, Mr. Margrave, I don't know that I want to sell it.”
”Now, Jim, you ain't going to hold me up on this? You've got me into a pretty mess, and I hope you're not going to keep on pus.h.i.+ng me in.”
Wheaton crossed and recrossed his legs. There was Porter and there was Margrave. To whom did he owe allegiance? He resented the way in which Margrave had taken him to task; he could not see that he had been culpable, unless as against Porter. Yet Porter had told him nothing; if Porter had treated him with a little more frankness, he certainly would never have mentioned Traction to Margrave.
”What I have wouldn't do you any good,” he said finally.
”But it might do me some harm! Now, you don't want these shares, Jim.
You're ent.i.tled to a profit, and I'll pay you a fair price.”
”I can't do anything to hurt Mr. Porter,” said Wheaton. He remembered just how the drawing-room at the Porters' looked, and the kindness and frankness of Evelyn Porter's eyes.
”Yes, but you've got a duty to me,” he stormed, getting red in the face again. ”You can bet your life that if it hadn't been for you, I'd never have been in this pickle. Come along now, Jim, I've got a lot of our railroad people to go in on this. They depend absolutely on my judgment.
I'm a ruined man if I fail to show up at the meeting to-morrow with a majority of these shares. It won't make any difference to Billy Porter whether he wins out or not. He's got plenty of irons in the fire. I don't know as a matter of fact that I need these shares; but I want to be on the safe side. Does Porter know what you've got?”
Wheaton shook his head.
”Then what's the harm in selling them where you've got a chance, even if you wasn't under any obligations to me? If you didn't know until I told you that the old man was still on the hunt for this stuff, I don't see that you're bound to wait for him to come around and ask you to sell to him. How much shall I make it for?” He opened a drawer and pulled out his check-book.
”They tell me Porter's pretty sick,” Margrave continued, running the stubs of the check-book through his thick thumb and forefinger. ”Billy isn't as young as he used to be. Very likely he'll never know you had any Traction stock,” he added significantly. ”How much shall I make it for, Jim?”
Wheaton walked over to the window and looked down into the street, while Margrave watched him with pen in hand.
”How much shall I make it for?” he asked more sharply.
”You can't make it for anything, Mr. Margrave, and I want to say that I'm very much disappointed in the way you've tried to get it from me.”
Margrave swung around on him with an oath. But Wheaton went on, speaking carefully.
”I can't imagine that the few shares of stock I hold can be of real importance in deciding the control of this company. I don't say I won't give you these shares, but I can't do it now.”