followed in silence, and hurried away with a grim smile.

At two-thirty Jim was in his Chicago office. For some time he was closeted
with Myers, treasurer of the road, then he closed his desk and went out.
He spent an hour with Spencer, a capitalist and an M. & T. director. From
four to six he was locked in his office, going through his various
collateral securities. At six he locked his office and went home with a
feeling of relief. The battle was on, and Jim was ready. There would be a
meeting at his house that evening between Spencer, Myers, and himself; not
a long meeting, but one productive of results.




CHAPTER V


TUESDAY EVENING

Harvey West liked to be comfortable. His rooms were in a quiet apartment
house on the West Side, within easy reach of the Metropolitan Elevated,
and not far from the big house where Jim Weeks held bachelor sway. Harvey
was not a musician, but a good piano stood in his sitting room. He had
accumulated a few etchings and two bronzes; and on the centre table were
piled the latest books. Harvey read these about as he listened to Grand
Opera--he recognized that a man should keep in touch with such things. In
a vague way he enjoyed them, but he was too honest to cultivate the glib
generalities that give so many men a rating as connoisseurs of art, music,
and literature. Harvey liked action. Business appealed to him, anything
with motion and excitement; then, after the fever of the day, he was drawn