"Yes, I think that was the name," the other replied.
"He was my father"s cousin," said Montague. "He put so much money into the road that the family has been poor ever since."
"It was an unfortunate venture," said the Colonel. "It is too bad some of our big capitalists don"t take it up and do something with it."
"That was my idea," said Montague. "I have broached it to one."
"Indeed?" said the Colonel. "Possibly that is where my offer came from. Who was it?"
"It was Jim Hegan," said Montague.
"Oh!" said the Colonel. "But of course," he added, "Hegan would do his negotiating through an agent."
"Let me give you my card," said the Colonel, after a pause. "It is possible that I may be able to interest someone in the matter myself. I have friends who believe in the future of the South. How many shares do you suppose you could get me, and what do you suppose they would cost?"
Montague got out a pencil and paper, and proceeded to recall as well as he could the location of the various holdings of Northern Mississippi. He and his new acquaintance became quite engrossed in the subject, and they talked it out from many points of view. By the time that Montague"s friend arrived, the Colonel was in possession of all the facts, and he promised that he would write in a very few days.
And then, after dinner, Montague went upstairs and joined his mother. "I met an old friend of father"s this evening," he said.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"Colonel Cole," he said, and Mrs. Montague looked blank.
"Colonel Cole?" she repeated.
"Yes, that was the name," said Montague. "Here is his card," and he took it out. "Henry W. Cole, Seattle, Washington," it read.
"But I never heard of him," said Mrs. Montague.
"Never heard of him!" exclaimed Montague. "Why, he has been at the house a dozen times, and he knew father and Cousin Lee and Judge Dupree and everyone."
But Mrs. Montague only shook her head. "He may have been at the house," she said, "but I am sure that I was never introduced to him."
Montague thought that it was strange, but he would never have given further thought to the matter, had it not been for something which occurred the next morning. He went to the office rather early, on account of important work which he had to get ready. He was the first to arrive, and he found the scrub-woman who cleaned the office just taking her departure.
It had never occurred to Montague before that such a person existed; and he turned in some surprise when she spoke to him.
"I beg pardon, sir," she said. "But there is something I have to tell you."
"What is it?" said he.
"There is someone trying to find out about you," said the woman.
"What do you mean?" he asked, in perplexity.
"Begging your pardon, sir," said the woman, "but there was a man came here this morning, very early, and he offered me money, sir, and he wanted me to save him all the papers that I took out of your sc.r.a.p basket, sir."
Montague caught his breath. "Papers out of my sc.r.a.p basket!" he gasped.
"Yes, sir," said the woman. "It is done now and then, sir,--we learn of such things, you know. And we are poor women,--they don"t pay us very well. But you are a gentleman, sir, and I told him I would have nothing to do with it."
"What sort of a looking man was he?" Montague demanded.
"He was a dark chap, sir," said the other, "a sort of Jew like. He will maybe come back again."
Montague took out his purse and gave the woman a bill; and she stammered her thanks and went off with her pail and broom.
He shut the door and went and sat down at his desk, and stared in front of him, gasping, "My G.o.d!"
Then suddenly he struck his knee with an exclamation of rage. "I told him everything that I knew! Everything! He hardly had to ask me a question!"
But then again, wonder drowned every other emotion in him. "What in the world can he have wanted to know? And who sent him? What can it mean?"
He went back over his talk with the old gentleman from Seattle, trying to recall exactly what he had told, and what use the other could have made of the information. But he could not think very steadily, for his mind kept jumping back to the thought of Jim Hegan.
There could be but one explanation of all this. Jim Hegan had set detectives upon him! n.o.body else knew anything about the Northern Mississippi Railroad, or wanted to know about it.
Jim Hegan! And Montague had met him socially at an entertainment--at Mrs. de Graffenried"s! He had met him as one gentleman meets another, had shaken hands with him, had gone and talked with him freely and frankly! And then Hegan had sent a detective to worm his secrets from him, and had even tried to get at the contents of his trash basket!
There was only one resort that Montague could think of, in a case so perplexing. He sat down and wrote a note to his friend Major Venable, at the Millionaires" Club, saying that he was coming there to dinner, and would like to have the Major"s company. And two or three hours later, when sufficient time had elapsed for the Major to have had his shave and his coffee and his morning newspaper, he rang for a messenger and sent the note.
The Major"s reply was prompt. He had no engagement, and his stores of information and advice were at Montague"s service. But his gout was bad, and his temper atrocious, and Montague must be warned in advance that his doctors permitted him neither mushrooms nor meat.
It always seemed to Montague that it could not be possible for a human face to wear a brighter shade of purple than the Major"s; yet every time he met him, it seemed to him that the purple was a shade brighter. And it spread farther with every step the Major took. He growled and grumbled, and swore tremendous oaths under his breath, and the way the headwaiter and all his a.s.sistants scurried about the dining-room of the Club was a joy to the beholder.
Montague waited until the old gentleman had obtained his usual dry Martini, and until he had solved the problem of satisfying his appet.i.te and his doctor. And then he told of his extraordinary experience.
"I felt sure that you could explain it, if anybody could," said he.
"But what is there to explain?" asked the other. "It simply means that Jim Hegan is interested in your railroad. What more could you want?"
"But he sent a detective after me!" gasped Montague.
"But that"s all right," said the Major. "It is done every day. There are a half dozen big agencies that do nothing else. You are lucky if he hasn"t had your telephone tapped, and read your telegrams and mail before you saw them."
Montague stared at him aghast. "A man like Jim Hegan!" he exclaimed.
"And to a friend."
"A friend?" said the Major. "Pshaw! A man doesn"t do business with friends. And, besides, Jim Hegan probably never knew anything about it. He turned the whole matter over to some subordinate, and told him to look it up, and he"ll never give another thought to it until the facts are laid upon his desk. Some one of his men set to work, and he was a little clumsy about it--that"s all."
"But why did he want to know about all my family affairs?"
"Why, he wanted to know how you were situated," said the other--"how badly you wanted to sell the stock. So when he came to do business with you, he"d have you where he wanted you, and he"d probably get fifty per cent off the price because of it. You"ll be lucky if he doesn"t have a few loans called on you at your bank."
The Major sat watching Montague, smiling at his naivete. "Where did you say this road was?" he asked. "In Mississippi?"
"Yes," said Montague.
"I was wondering about it," said the other. "It is not likely that it"s Jim Hegan at all. I don"t believe anybody could get him to take an interest in Southern railroads. He has probably mentioned it to someone else. What"s your road good for, anyway?"