Joan and Co.
“Your father might know. I think I ought to see him.”
“Now, look here,” protested Dicky. “Let’s leave him out of this. He has
troubles enough as it is. What I’d like to do is to clean this all up
without bringing him into it.”
“If I know him, that’s going to be hard to do.”
“I think we can manage it. I’m going to break him into golf this
afternoon, and I have a notion that when we get back he’ll be so
dog-tired he won’t be able to think.”
“But, my boy, you haven’t the authority to take over his business.”
“Then I’ll get it. Can’t you make out some sort of paper?”
“He could give you a power of attorney, of course.”
“Then fix it up and I’ll have him sign it. In the meanwhile you can go
ahead and find out where he stands with Toole & Co., can’t you?”
“I suppose the firm will let us know that. There is probably a letter
in his morning mail.”
The mail was on the desk. Dicky ran through it and picked out an
envelope with a Wall Street address in the left-hand corner.
“Here it is,” he nodded.
He tore it open. It was a cold-blooded statement of yesterday’s
transactions and showed a debit of two hundred and ten thousand dollars.
“That’s going some,” he observed as he handed it to Wentworth. The
latter glanced it over in amazement.
“What has he got to cover this?” he asked.
“Hanged if I know,” answered Dicky.
“You’d better find out right off. Accounts of this sort aren’t allowed
to stand long. I’ll make out the power of attorney for you and then
you’d better call in an auditor to make an inventory. The sooner we
begin, the better.”
“Right. And the sooner we get through it the better. It looks as though
I’d better be hunting around for a job somewhere.”
Burnett senior was inclined to rebel at this arbitrary method of being
relieved of his business.
“I’m not dead yet,” he protested.
“Far from it,” agreed Dicky. “The point of this new arrangement is to
keep you from being dead for a long while to come.”
“But what in thunder do you know about the business?” inquired Burnett.
“Not much,” admitted Dicky. “However, I’m willing to learn. Besides, in
this present emergency I’m turning things over to Wentworth. When he
gets through, we’ll hold a war council and see what comes next.”
“Yes—Wentworth is a good man,” nodded Burnett.
Dicky was further aided and abetted by Mrs. Burnett, so that in the
end Burnett signed the power of attorney. Armed with this, Dicky went
back to the office and gave Wentworth _carte blanche_ to go ahead and
do whatever he pleased. It was then noon, and he rang up Hastings at
the Harvard Club and reminded him of an invitation he had frequently
extended to take him out to the Dale Country Club whenever he had a
half-day.
“I want you to give my father his first lesson in golf this afternoon,”
he informed Hastings.
Whatever the latter’s emotions were upon receipt of this news, he
politely concealed them and generously offered to do his best.
Dicky sat on the club piazza drinking ginger ale with his mother while
his father started around the course. Two hours later his father came
back perspiring. He had made one half the holes in three hundred and
forty, but it must be remembered that his nerves were not in the best
of condition.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE BIG CHANCE
It was Hartley’s proposition. He rang up Devons and asked him to drop
in at the office that afternoon. There had been a delay in the last
consignment of enamel, and this had set Hartley to thinking—this and
a rumor, following the death of Forsythe, that all was not well with
the Burnett Company. The report did not come as a surprise to Hartley.
Indeed, he did not see how the new Devons process could do otherwise
than cut into the Burnett business. The youngster had something that
had only to be tested to prove its superiority. Still he had given
Forsythe credit for being able to handle the competition in some
better fashion than putting a bullet through his head. It would not
have surprised him any to have seen the man manage to absorb the new
invention. Forsythe was both shifty and nimble-witted. The youngster
was lucky to escape him in so simple a way.
But with this danger removed, Devons was not handling his business
as he should. He had a gold mine there if he only knew it and took
advantage of his opportunities. One of the most obvious opportunities
was that which now lay before him. If it was true that Burnett
was in financial difficulties, here was one of the best plants and
organizations in the country waiting for him at his own figure. Why
in thunder did not Devons jump at it instead of fooling around in his
little two-cent laboratory and botching his orders? Hartley had been
holding up a big lot of shoes for three days now waiting for enamel.
That was not business. Devons could spoil the best thing in the world
if he kept this up long. He had written and telephoned, and the only
satisfaction he had been able to get was that the stuff would be
shipped as soon as possible. That was not soon enough as business was
conducted to-day.
There was the possibility, of course, that Devons lacked capital to
finance the purchase of the Burnett plant. That, however, was not a
valid excuse. Any man half awake could raise what money he needed on
such a good thing as this, if he knew how. Perhaps the difficulty lay
here. He had sent for him to find out. Under the proper conditions, he
himself might be willing to put in some money.
Devons did not find it necessary to wait this time in the outer office.
He was admitted at once.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting on that last order,” he began.
“You couldn’t help it,” Hartley finished for him. “However, that
doesn’t make it any the less awkward for me.”
“I know it, Mr. Hartley, but I’ve been bothered more or less lately. I
expect soon to get straightened out.”
“How?”
“I’m going to have more room and try to find an assistant.”
“One?”
“To start with.”
Hartley swung his chair clear of his desk.
“Man, you need twenty. Have you heard any stories going the rounds
about Burnett?”
Devons started.
“You mean about his general manager—Forsythe?”
“Forsythe’s death was only a symptom. They say the firm is in a bad
way.”
“I hadn’t heard anything about that.”
“Burnett has been playing the market and lost heavily. Besides that,
you are cutting into his business and are bound to cut in more every
day. I’ve been wondering if this wasn’t your chance.”
“In just what way?” asked Devons.
“To take over his plant.”
“But Forsythe was trying to buy me out!” exclaimed Devons.
“That shows he knew the value of what you have. It’s none of my
business, of course—but did you make him a figure?”
“I did not,” answered Devons. “He tried to blackmail me into selling.”
“That’s Forsythe,” nodded Hartley. “The only surprising thing is that
he didn’t succeed.”
“If I didn’t have just the kind of partner I have, he would have
succeeded,” Devons admitted. “But she—”
“She?”
Then on the impulse of the moment Devons told the whole story. Hartley
listened, both interested and amused.
“She was a good sport, all right,” he exclaimed when Devons had
finished. “And now—Good Lord, man, you have the whole thing in your
hands! If I were you I’d get to Burnett as soon as my legs would carry
me. Get an offer out of him. It wouldn’t surprise me if you could put
it over for around seventy-five or a hundred thousand dollars.”
The figures took Devons’s breath away.
“Where in thunder could I get that amount?”
Hartley leaned back in his chair and thought a moment. When he spoke
again it was cautiously—as though feeling his way.
“Devons,” he said, “I believe in your process. I think you have a
fortune ahead of you if properly managed. I wonder now if you would
care to consider letting me in on this in return for financing the
proposition for you?”
Devons sprang from his chair.
“Would I?” he exclaimed.
“Steady,” advised Hartley. “It won’t do any harm to do a little
figuring on it, anyhow. Pull your chair up nearer the desk.”
* * * * *
It was fortunate that Hartley was a man who could safely be trusted
to do the decent thing, because Devons in his enthusiasm at the
prospect of having a partner with the former’s wide and sound business
experience was ready to agree to anything. Furthermore, Hartley stood
for success. He looked and acted it. To have him connected with any
enterprise was insurance. And so while the latter discussed this thing
and that with him for the next half-hour, Devons did scarcely more than
nod his approval. Incidentally, however, he did talk enough to give
Hartley a clear idea of just where Miss Fairburne stood in the deal.
She had raised the initial five thousand for him, and Devons considered
that she had an equal interest with him in all rights and profits.
“We share and share alike,” he concluded briefly.
“I see,” smiled Hartley. “I might almost consider you as one then.”
Devons flushed.
“There is that possibility,” he admitted. “But I don’t think I’m
justified in letting you put it just that way.”
“Well, from all I hear of her from you I should say you are to be
congratulated.”
In the end Hartley’s suggestion was that in return for a one-third
interest he would undertake negotiations with Burnett, furnish the
capital, and without at present giving up his position with the Doggett
people undertake in his spare time active management of the business.
“I know a young man I can put in to carry out my ideas and do the
routine work,” he concluded. “He’s a Tech man and has had training
under me. Starling is his name. You will like him. But of course you’ll
want to think this over for a day.”
“I don’t see why,” answered Devons. “It sounds right to me. I’m willing
to sign an agreement to that effect as soon as you can make out the
papers.”
“What about your silent partner?” inquired Hartley. “She may have
opinions of her own.”
“I’ll see her right away, but I know she’ll be with me.”
“We’ll leave it like that, then,” concluded Hartley. “But the sooner
I’m in a position to act, the better.”
Devons left the office walking on air. This new arrangement promised
to accomplish in a few months all that by himself he might have been
years in bringing about. With a modern plant and a man like Hartley to
oversee it and organize the selling, the whole country could be covered
as quickly and as easily as it would have taken him to cover the city
alone. It was like a gift from the gods. And it brought Joan just that
much nearer. It brought her so near that as he walked out into the May
sunshine the world became suddenly vibrant. As with quickened pulse
he strode along to carry to her this wonderful news, the city became
touched with magic. The very air tingled and the humdrum old buildings
of wood and brick which he passed took on a romantic beauty like the
buildings of some strange Old World city. He was walking on a different
level now. His feet no longer clung to the surface, but were tipped
with wings that raised him to some rarefied stratum. He sensed the same
exhilaration as one walking upon a great height.
He took the Tube to the Hudson Terminal, and instead of at once getting
into the uptown Elevated he came to the surface again. Hartley had
spoken of the need of haste, but even at the risk of an hour’s delay
he must enjoy this hour. So he threaded his way through the downtown
crowds and past the giant buildings. Both the people and the buildings
used to awe him—almost humble him. Now he faced them with a smile and
a conscious power. As he went on, this grew into something akin to a
feeling of superiority. He had met this city and conquered it. He