“Five hundred dollars--to begin Monday,” said John.
The bookkeeper looked up under his lids, without lifting his head. “What do you mean?” he said slowly.
John waited a minute. When he spoke, a little smile edged the words. “I thought you’d like to know right off--So you could write the C. B. and L. that you won’t be able to do anything for them after today.”
“It worked too well,” said John. “They’ve lost a good twenty thousand these two weeks--trying to fix it--and the twenty thousand is ours. But we don’t do business that way--not unless we have to,” he added with slow emphasis.
The man looked up. “How are you going to keep tab on me?” he demanded.
“Won’t the five hundred keep tab?” asked John.
The man’s smile was wintry. “The C. B. and L. did better,” he said.
“Yes--they knew what they were paying for--they thought they knew. The ‘R. and Q.’ does n’t.”
The man stirred a little. “All right. It’s a go.” He took up his pen and tried the nib on his thumb nail. His eyes were fixed on it. “Cheaper to fire me,” he said, dipping the pen into the ink.
“Do you think so?” said John. “Wait a minute, Harrington.”
“The ‘R. and Q.’ will need straight men the next six months--men that will stand by!”
The man nodded. He was not looking np. “I have an idea, somehow--” The young man hesitated. Then he laughed out. “I’ve watched you, you know,” he said frankly, “I ’ve had an eye on you.”
“Yes, and I ’ve come to think you may be one of the best men the road’s got.”
“That’s what _I’ve_ thought,” said the man drily.
“I don’t know how you came to be in this C. B. and L. mixup,” said John quickly, “but I think you stood by them as long as you could--”
“--and did their dirty work for them,” added John.
“The ‘R. and Q.’ wants that kind of men for clean work--” He paused, seeking the right words. “I ’m not clever, you know,” said John. He raised his clear eyes to the man’s face.
The face sneered a little--then it changed subtly. “I believe you ’re speaking God’s truth,” he said soberly.
“I believe I am,” said John. “I ’m not clever--I know it. But the road needs men that are--Men that know enough to be rascals and won’t,” he added quietly.
The man looked at him a minute. Then he laughed--a long, full laugh. It had a hint of fellowship in it.--“You ’re a rum un,” he said.