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The Quest of the Silver Fleece - A Novel by W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt) Du Bois
page 119 of 484 (24%)

So it was the week after Mary Taylor's ride that found him at
Cresswell's front door, thin, eagle-eyed, fairly well dressed and
radiating confidence.

"John Taylor," he announced to Sam, jerkily, thrusting out a card. "Want
to see Mr. Cresswell; soon as possible."

Sam made him wait a half-hour, for the sake of discipline, and then
brought father and son.

"Good-morning, Mr. Cresswell, and Mr. Cresswell again," said Mr. Taylor,
helping himself to a straight-backed chair. "Hope you'll pardon this
unexpected visit. Found myself called through Montgomery, just after I
got your wire; thought I'd better drop over."

At Harry's suggestion they moved to the verandah and sat down over
whiskey and soda, which Taylor refused, and plunged into the subject
without preliminaries.

"I'm assuming that you gentlemen are in the cotton business for making
money. So am I. I see a way in which you and your friends can help me
and mine, and clear up more millions than all of us can spend; for this
reason I've hunted you up. This is my scheme.

"See here; there are a thousand cotton-mills in this country, half of
them in the South, one-fourth in New England, and one-fourth in the
Middle States. They are capitalized at six hundred million dollars. Now
let me tell you: we control three hundred and fifty millions of that
capitalization. The trust is going through capitalization at a billion.
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