CHAPTER XXIII
WILLIAM PORTER RETURNS FROM A JOURNEY
Porter went into Fenton's private office and shut and locked the doorafter him. He always did this, and Fenton, who humored his best client'swhims perforce, pushed back the law book which he was reading andstraightened the pens on his blotter.
"I didn't expect you back so soon," he said. Porter looked tired andthere were dark rings under his eyes.
"Short horse soon curried," he remarked, pulling a packet from hisovercoat.
There was something boyish in Porter's mysterious methods, which alwaysamused Fenton when they did not alarm and exasperate him.
Porter sat down at a long table and the lawyer drew up a chair oppositehim.
"Which way have you been this time?"
"Down in the country," returned Porter, indefinitely.
Fenton laughed and watched his client pulling the rubber bands from hispackage.
"What have you there--oats or wheat?"
"What I have here," said Porter, straightening out the crisp papers hehad taken from his bundle, "is a few shares of Clarkson Traction stock."
"Oh!" Fenton picked up a ruler and played with it until Porter hadfinished counting and smoothing the stock certificates.
"There you are," said the banker, passing the papers over to Fenton."See if they're all right."
Fenton compared the names on the face of the certificates with theassignments on the back, while Porter watched him and played with arubber band.
"The assignments are all straight," said Fenton, finally.
He sat waiting and his silence irritated Porter, who reached across andtook up the certificates again.
"I want to talk to you a little about Traction."
"All right, sir," said Fenton, respectfully.
"I've gone in for that pretty deep this fall."
Fenton nodded gravely. He felt trouble in the air.
"I started in on this down East last summer. Those bonds all went East,but a lot of the stock was kicked around out here. If I get enough andreorganize the company I can handle the new securities down East allright. That's business. Now, I've been gathering in the stock aroundhere on the quiet. Peckham's been buying some for me, and he's assignedit in blank. There's no use in getting new shares issued until we'reready to act, for Barnes and those fellows are not above doing somethingnasty if they think they're going to lose their jobs."
"The original stock issue was five thousand shares," said Fenton. "Howmuch have you?"
"Well, sir," said Porter, "I've got about half and I'm looking for a fewshares more right now."
Fenton picked up his ruler again and beat his knuckles with it. Porterhad expected Fenton to lecture him sharply, but the lawyer was ominouslyquiet.
"I'm free to confess," said Fenton, "that I'm sorry you've gone intothis. This isn't the kind of thing that you're in the habit of goinginto. I am not much taken with the idea of mixing up in a corporationthat has as disreputable a record as the Traction Company. It's beenmismanaged and robbed until there's not much left for an honest man totake hold of; they issue no statements; no one of any responsibility hasbeen connected with it for a long time. The outside stockholders arescattered all over the country, and most of them have quit trying toenforce their rights, if they may be said to have any rights. Youremember that the last time they went into court they were knocked outand I'm free to say that I don't want to have to go into any litigationagainst the company."
"Yes, but the franchise is all straight, ain't it?"
"Probably it is all right," admitted the lawyer reluctantly, "but thatisn't the whole story by any manner of means. If it's known that you'repicking up the stock, every fellow that has any will soak you good andhard before he parts with it. Now, there are the bondholders--"
"Well, what can the bondholders do?" demanded Porter.
"Oh, get a receiver and have a lot of fun. You may expect that at anytime, too. Those Eastern fellows are slow sometimes, but they generallyknow what they're about."
"Yes, but if they weren't Eastern fellows--"
"Oh, a bondholder's rights are as good one place as another. Thosesuits are usually brought in the name of the trustee in their behalf."
"Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" demanded Porter, settling backin his chair and placing his feet on Fenton's table. "I'm going to turnup at the next annual meeting and clean this thing out. You don't thinkit's any good; I've got faith in the company and in the town; I believeit's going to be a good thing. This little gang here that's been runningit has got to go. I've dug up some stock here that everybody thought waslost. At the last meeting only eight hundred out of five thousand shareswere voted."
Fenton frowned and continued to punish himself with the ruler.
"You beat me! You haven't the slightest idea who the other shareholdersare; the company is thoroughly rotten in all its past history, and hereyou go plunging into it up to your eyes. And they say you're the mostconservative banker on the river."
"I guess you don't have to get me out of many scrapes," said Porter,doggedly.
"When's the annual meeting?" asked Fenton, suddenly.
"It's day after to-morrow--a close call, but I'll make it all right."
Fenton threw down his ruler impatiently.
"Mr. Porter, I want you to remember that I haven't given you any adviceat all in this matter. It's an extra hazardous thing that you're doing.Now, I don't know anything definitely about it, but--I've got theimpression that Margrave's paralleling your lines in this business."Porter brought his feet down with a crash.
"Where'd you get that?"
"It's this way," said Fenton, in his quietest tones. "A Baltimore lawyerthat I know wrote me a letter,--I just got it this morning,--asking meabout Margrave's responsibility. It seems that my friend has a clientwho owns some of these shares. A good deal of that stock went toBaltimore and Philadelphia, you may remember. I assume that Margrave isafter it."
"Wire your friend right away not to sell,--" shouted Porter, poundingthe table with his fist.
"I did that this morning, and here's his answer. I got it just beforeyou came in. Margrave evidently got anxious and wired them to sendcertificates with draft through the Drovers' National. They're probablyon the way now." He passed the telegram across to Porter, who put on hisglasses and read it.
"Now," continued Fenton, "I don't know just what this means, but itlooks to me as if Margrave was hot on the track of the trolley companyhimself; and Tim Margrave isn't a particularly pleasant fellow to gointo business with, is he?"
"But the bondholders would still have their chance, wouldn't they, evenif he got a majority of the stock?"
"Well, you haven't any bonds, have you? First thing I know you'll betelling me that you've got a few barrels of them," he added, jokingly.He could not help laughing at Porter.
Porter took the cigar from his mouth, looked carefully at the lightedend of it, and said with a casual air, as if he had a particularlydecisive and conclusive statement to make and wished to avail himself ofits dramatic possibilities:
"My dear boy, I've got every blamed bond!"
Fenton sat gazing at him in stupefied wonder.
"Would you mind saying that again?" he said, after a full minute ofsilent amazement in which he sat staring at his client, who was blowingrings of smoke with great equanimity.
"I've got all the bonds, was what I said."
The lawyer walked around the table and put his hand on Porter'sshoulder. He was trying to keep from laughing, like a parent who isabout to rebuke a child and yet laughs at the cause of its offense.Porter evidently thought that he had done an extremely bright thing.
"As I understand you, you have bought all of the bonds and half of thestock."
"About half. I'm a little--just a little--short."
"Will you kindly tell me what you wanted with the stock if you had thebonds?"
"Well, I figured it this way, that the franchise was worth the price Ihad to pay for the whole
thing, and if I had the stock control I'd savethe fuss of foreclosing. You lawyers always make a lot of rumpus aboutthose things, and a receivership would prejudice the Eastern market whenI come to reorganize and sell out."
Fenton lay back in his chair and laughed, while Porter looked at him alittle defiantly, with his hat tipped over his eyes and a cigar stickingin his mouth at an impertinent angle.
"You'd better finish your job and make sure of your majority," saidFenton. His rage was rising now and he did not urge Porter to remainwhen the banker got up to go. He was not at all anxious to defend afranchise which the local courts, always sensitive to public sentiment,might set aside.
"I'll see you in the morning first thing," said Porter at the door,which Fenton opened for him. "I want you to go to the meeting with meand we'll need a day to get ready."
The lawyer watched his client walk toward the elevator. It occurred tohim that Porter's step was losing its elasticity. While the bankerwaited for the elevator car he leaned wearily against the wire screen ofthe shaft.
Fenton swore quietly to himself for a few minutes and then sat down witha copy of the charter of the Clarkson Traction Company before him, andspent the remainder of the day studying it. He had troubled much overPorter's secretive ways, and had labored to shatter the dangerousconceit which had gradually grown up in his client. Porter had, in fact,a contempt for lawyers, though he leaned on Fenton more than he wouldadmit. Fenton, on the other hand, was constantly fearful lest his clientshould undo himself by his secretive methods. He had difficulty ingetting all the facts out of him even when they were imperativelyrequired. Once in the trial of a case for Porter, the opposing counselmade a statement which Fenton rose in full confidence to refute. Hisantagonist reaffirmed it, and Fenton, not doubting that he understoodPorter's position thoroughly, appealed to him to deny the charge, fullyexpecting to score an effective point before the court. To hisconsternation, Porter coolly admitted the truth of the imputation. Buteven this incident and Fenton's importunity in every matter that arosethereafter did not cure Porter of his weakness. He was a difficultclient, who was, as Fenton often said to himself, a good deal harder tomanage in a lawsuit than the trial judge or opposing counsel.
The next morning Fenton was at his office early and sent his boy at onceto ask Mr. Porter to come up. The boy reported that Mr. Porter had notbeen at the bank. Fenton went down himself at ten o'clock and found thepresident's desk closed.
"Where's the boss?" he demanded.
"Won't be down this morning," said Wheaton. "Miss Porter telephoned thathe wasn't feeling well, but he expected to be down after luncheon."
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