The Short Line War Part 4

Before leaving Manchester Mr. McNally wired to the Tillman City Finance Committee an invitation to dine at the Hotel Tremain at 7.45 P.M. During the journey he matured his plan of campaign.

This was not likely to be more than mildly exciting, for twenty years of political and financial juggling had fitted Mr. McNally for delicate work.

In his connection with various corporations he had learned the art of subduing insubordinate legislatures without friction, if not without expense, and naturally the present task offered few difficulties. That was why, after an hour or so of thought, he straightened up in his seat, bought a paper, and read it with interest, from the foreign news to the foot-ball prospects. Mr. McNally's tastes were cosmopolitan, and now that his method was determined he dismissed M. & T. stock from his mind. He knew Tillman City, and more to the point, he knew Michael Blaney, Chairman of the Council Finance Committee. Finesse would not be needed, subtlety would be lost, with Blaney, and so Mr. McNally was prepared to talk bluntly. And on occasion Mr. McNally could be terseness itself.

On his arrival he took a cab for the hotel. The Committee were on hand to meet him, and Blaney made him acquainted with the others.

Michael Blaney was a man of the people. He was tall and angular, hands and face seamed and leathery from the work of earlier days, eyes small and keen, and a scraggy mustache, that petered out at the ends. He had risen by slow but sure stages from a struggling contractor with no pull, to be the absolute monarch of six wards; and as the other seven wards were divided between the pro- and anti-pavers, Blaney held the munic.i.p.al reins.

He still derived an income from city contracts, but his name did not appear on the bids.

After dinner Mr. McNally led the way to his room, and in a few words announced that he had come for the M. & T. stock. Blaney tipped back in his chair and shook his head.

"Can't do it, Mr. McNally. It ain't for sale."

"So I heard," said McNally, quietly, "but I want it."

"You see it's like this. When they were building the line, we took the stock on a special act--"

"I understand all that," McNally interrupted. "That can be fixed."

Williams, one of the other two, leaned over the table.

"We ain't fools enough to go up against Jim Weeks," he said.

"Don't worry about Weeks," replied McNally, "I can take care of him."

"Who are you buying for?" asked Blaney.

McNally looked thoughtfully at the three men, then said quietly:--

"I am buying for C. & S.C. Jim Weeks is all right, but he can't hold out against us."

"Well, I tell you, Mr. McNally, we can't sell."

"Why not?"

"Outside of the original terms--and they sew us up--we never could get it through the Council."

McNally folded his hands on the table and looked at Blaney with twinkling eyes.

"That's all rot, Blaney."

"No, it ain't. The boys are right with Weeks."

"See here, Blaney. You just stop and ask yourself what Weeks has done for you. He's sunk a lot of your money and a lot of St. Johns's money, to say nothing of Chicago, in a road that never has paid and never will pay. Why, man, the stock would be at forty now if we hadn't pushed it up. I tell you Jim Weeks is licked. The only way for you to get your money back is to vote in men who can make it go. We've got the money, and we've got the men. It will be a good thing for Tillman City, and a good thing"--he paused, and looked meaningly at the three faces before him--"a mighty good thing for you boys."

"We couldn't put it through in time for the election anyhow."

"The eighth? That's two weeks."

"I know it, but we'd have to work the opposition."

"Talk business, Blaney. I'll make it worth your while."

"What'll you give?"

"For the stock?"

"Well--yes, for the stock."

"I'll give you par."

"Um--when?"

"That depends on you. However, if you really want time, you can have it. I suppose you boys vote the stock?"

All three nodded.

"Well, you vote for our men, and I'll sign an agreement to pay cash at par after the meeting."

"Why not now?"

"I wouldn't have any hold on you. Anyhow, I won't pay till I get the stock, and you seem to want time."

Blaney glanced at the other two. They were watching McNally closely, and Williams was fumbling his watch chain. Blaney's eyes met McNally's.

"What'll you do for us?" he asked. "It'll take careful work."

For answer McNally rose and went to the bed, where his bag lay open. He rummaged a moment, then returned with a pack of cards.

"Forgot my chips," he said, seating himself. "Close up, boys."

He dealt the cards with deft hands. Blaney started to take his up, then paused with his hand over them.

"What's the ante?" he asked.

"Oh, five hundred?" McNally replied.

Blaney pushed the cards back.

"No," he said, "not enough."

Williams seconded his chief with a shake of the head.

"Well, name it yourself."

"A thousand."