Kitabı oku: «The Stoic / Стоик», sayfa 11
Chapter 17
In London at this time Jarkins was busily engaged in impressing his partner, Kloorfain, with the news that the great Cowperwood, he believed, was really interested in the London underground situation as a whole! He described Cowperwood’s attitude and words, and at the same time he explained that they had made a mistake in not sensing that a man with such immense holdings would certainly not want to bother with one little underground system. How ridiculous for Greaves and Henshaw to think they could interest him in 50 per cent of their line! Why, here was no chance of him accepting any such terms. Nothing short of a full 51 per cent control for him! Did Kloorfain think that Greaves and Henshaw were ever likely to find the money for their line in England?
To which Kloorfain, a stout, oleaginous Dutchman, as shrewd in small practical ways as he was deficient in large financial vision or courage, replied:
“Not at all! Too many ‘acts,’ as it is. Too many companies fighting each other for single routes. No willingness on the part of any one company to join up with any other to give the public a through route at a reasonable fare. I’ve seen it myself, for I’ve been riding around London for years. Why, just think, there are these two central lines, the Metropolitan and the District, which together control a circle around the very business heart of London”… and he proceeded to point out some of the practical as well as financial errors made by these two lines, and their resulting difficulties. They had never been willing to merge and build feeder lines, not even to electrify and modernize those they had. They were still running steam engines through tunnels and open cuts. The only company which had shown any sense at all was the City and South London, which ran from the Monument to Clapham Common. It had an electric system which operated with a third rail, and it ran smoothly, was well lighted, and the only well-patronized road in the city. But even so, it was too short; its passengers had to transfer and pay an extra fare on the London loop. London certainly needed a man like Cowperwood or a group of English financiers who would get together and finance and enlarge the system.
As to proposed lines which Cowperwood might secure, well, there was the Baker Street and Waterloo, being promoted by a Londoner by the name of Abington Scarr. Scarr had had his act for the last sixteen months and done nothing. Then there was some talk of extensions being made by the District, but in both cases capital was wanting.
“In fact,” concluded Kloorfain, “if Cowperwood really wants that Charing Cross, I don’t think he’d have much trouble getting it. Traffic Electrical gave up trying to finance it over two years ago. Since then these two engineers have had it, but until this suggestion in regard to Cowperwood came up, I’m sure they never had a bid of any kind. Besides, they’re not railroad men, and unless they find a man with as much money as Cowperwood has, I doubt if they’ll ever be able to put it through.”
“Well, then, there’s no use worrying about them, is there?” commented Jarkins.
“I think not,” reiterated Kloorfain. “But I think we ought to look up some of the people connected with the two old central loop lines, the District and the Metropolitan, or some of the bankers down in Threadneedle Street, and see what we can find out. You know Crawshaw, of Crawshaw and Vokes. They’ve been trying to find money for Greaves and Henshaw ever since they took over the option. Of course, they’ve failed, just as the Traffic Electrical crowd failed before them. They want too much.”
“Traffic Electrical?” queried Jarkins. “That’s the company that had this line originally. What sort of people are they?”
At once, and quite briskly, Kloorfain recalled a number of things in connection with them, not all that Sippens had discovered, but enough to interest both men. For now, emerging out of the pool of Kloorfain’s memories came Stane, Rider, Bullock, and Johnson, but more particularly Johnson and Stane. They had been among the principal promoters of Charing Cross and Kampstead, Stane was of the nobility and a large stockholder in District as well as City and South London. Johnson was counsel for Stane, as well as for District and Metropolitan, and also a stockholder in both lines.
Well, why not try and see this man Johnson?” queried Jarkins, all ears and attention because of his rift with Cowperwood. “He must be pretty well informed on all that’s going on.”
Kloorfain was standing at a window, looking down into the street. “Capital!” he exclaimed, turning around to face Jarkins. “The very idea! Why not? Only…” And now he paused and looked dubiously at Jarkins. “Is this all quite ethical? As I understand it, we haven’t the right to say we represent Cowperwood. From what you say he only agreed to hear Greaves and Henshaw in New York because we asked him to. He didn’t appoint us to do any work in connection with them.”
“Well, anyhow, I think it might be a good thing to sound out this fellow Johnson,” returned Jarkins, “indicate to him that Cowperwood, or some American millionaire that he know, is interested in a plan to unite some of these lines, and then suggest that the Charing Cross line, if they could get it back, might be sold to him. In that case, as the agents bringing them together, we ought to come in for a pretty neat bonus, and we’d be entitled to it. Besides, if any shares can be picked up now or sold for them or Cowperwood, we might come in as purchasing or selling agents. Why not?”
“Not a bad idea,” said Kloorfain, becoming more eager. “I’ll see if I can get him on the telephone.”
He lumbered into an inner office, and was about to make the call when he stopped and looked at Jarkins.
“The simplest way, I think, is to ask for a consultation in connection with a financial problem which is before us but which cannot be explained over the telephone. He’ll think there’s a fee in it for him, and we’ll just let him think so until we explain what it is.”
“Good!” said Jarkins. “Let’s call him now.”
So, after a very cautious explanation by Kloorfain to Johnson over the telephone, he turned and said: “He says he’ll see us tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Jarkins. “I think we’re on the right track now. Anyway, we’re moving. And if he isn’t interested himself, he may know someone who is.”
“Quite right, quite right,” repeated Kloorfain, who was mainly concerned at this time to see that due credit for his share of all this fell to him. “I’m glad I thought of him. This may turn out to be the biggest thing we’ve ever done.”
“Quite right, quite right!” echoed Jarkins, who was elated enough, but not as elated as he would have been had the whole problem been worked out by himself. For Jarkins had always thought of himself as not only the brains but the dynamic force of this combination.
Chapter 18
The offices of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance, as well as that of Lord Stane, were in one of the dingiest sections of Storey Street, adjacent to the Inns of Court. In fact, the whole region, except for the Inns of Court, would be regarded by Americans as most inappropriate housing for distinguished legal talent. Small, remodeled three- and four-story residences or one-time lofts and stores now contained offices, libraries, consulting chambers, for as many as a dozen solicitors, their stenographers, clerks, errand boys, and other assistants.
Storey Street itself was so narrow as almost to forbid the companionable stroll of two pedestrians arm in arm. As for the roadway proper, it might admit the easy passage of two pushcarts, but by no means two vehicles of any greater size. Yet through this lane poured a veritable host of workers, including those who used it for a quick cut to the Strand and adjacent thoroughfares.
The firm of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance occupied all of the four floors of 33 Storey Street, a building no more than twenty-three feet wide, though fifty feet deep. The ground floor, originally the reception and living room of the residence of a singularly retiring judge of a preceding generation, was now the general reception room and library. Lord Stane occupied a small office in the rear of first floor; the second floor was given over to the three most important members of the firm: Rider, Johnson, and Bullock. Chance, along with the various assistants, occupied the third floor. Elverson Johnson’s office, at the extreme rear of the second floor, looked down on a small court. Its cobbled paving had once been part of an ancient Roman courtyard, but its historic luster was dimmed by too great familiarity for those who were compelled to contemplate it day after day.
There was no elevator, or “lift,” to use the English term. A fairly large air shaft extended from the middle of the second floor to the roof. The offices were also equipped with a rather antique form of air wheel, which was supposed to add to the oxygenization of the air within. In addition, each room contained a fireplace—in which soft coal was burned throughout the foggy, rainy days of winter—and this added immensely to the comfort as well as charm of these interiors. In each solicitor’s room were spacious and well-made desks and chairs, and a white marble mantelpiece on which stood books or bits of statuary. The walls were hung with rather dusty engravings of bygone English legal lights or bits of British scenery.
Johnson, the authoritative and financially ambitious member of the firm was, in the main, a practical person, and followed, for the most part, an individual course that would be most advantageous to his personal plans. In one corner of his mind, however, was a complex which led him to speculate on the value of religion and even sympathize with the advancement of the nonconformist doctrines. He was given to meditating upon the hypocrisy and spiritual stagnation of the High Church party, and also upon the earthly as well as heavenly significance of such famous religionists as John Knox, William Penn, George Fox, and John Wesley. In his complicated and curious mental cosmos, he sheltered obviously rival and even antagonistic notions. He felt that there should be a ruling class which should advance and maintain itself by a desirable if not always justifiable cunning. Since in England this class was already buttressed by laws of property, inheritance, and primogeniture, it was important, correct, and all but unalterable. Hence the poor in mind as well as substance might best trust themselves to obedience, hard work, and a faith in a Heavenly Father who would, in the last analysis—perhaps—look after them. On the other hand, the immense gulf between not always witless poverty and unearned wealth seemed to him cruel and almost evil. This viewpoint supported his more urgent religious moods, which verged at times upon the sanctimonious.
Though he had come out of the lesser world of the socially weak and ineffective, he was ever aspiring to those upper walks where, if not he, then his children—two sons and one daughter—would be as secure as those whom he so greatly admired and criticized. In fact, he was aspiring to a title for himself: an unpretentious “Sir” to begin with, which later, if luck favored him, might be accentuated by further royal consideration. To win to that, as he well knew, he must not only secure more money than he now had, but also the favor of those who possessed money and title. In consequence, he intuitively attuned his actions to the ambitions and welfare of the members of that class.
He was small, pompous, wiry, authoritative. His father, a bibulous carpenter of Southwark, had wretchedly maintained a family of seven. Young Johnson was apprenticed to a baker, for whom he delivered bread. His diligence attracted the attention of a customer who was a printer, and by him he was taken on as a “devil” and encouraged to read and fix his mind on some practical line of work which would lift him out of the drab and miserable state in which he then moved. And Johnson was an eager pupil. Delivering printed matter to all manner of merchants and tradesmen, he finally came in contact with a young solicitor, Luther Fletcher by name, who, campaigning to represent one of the Southwark divisions in the London County Council, found in young Johnson, then not more than twenty years old, one who interested him as a legal possibility. His inquisitiveness and industry so fascinated Fletcher that he sent him to night school for the study of law.
From that point on, Johnson’s affairs prospered. The firm to which he was ultimately articled was not long in being impressed with his intuitive legal sense, and he was soon undertaking most of the detail work of the phases of law in which this firm was interested: contracts, property rights, wills, and the organization of companies. At the age of twenty-two, he passed the necessary examinations and was admitted solicitor. At twenty-three he encountered Mr. Byron Chance, of Bullock & Chance, solicitors, who offered him a partnership in that firm.
Bullock, a man of standing with the barristers of the Inns of Court, had for a friend one Wellington Rider, a solicitor of even more influential connections than himself. Rider managed the affairs of a number of large estates, among them that of the Earl of Stane, as well as the legal business of the District Railway. Also becoming interested in Johnson, he was seriously moved to persuade him to leave Bullock and join up with him. However, both self-interest and friendship dictated that he seek some other way of obtaining Johnson’s services. A talk with Bullock finally brought about the present legal union, which had now lasted for ten years.
With Rider came Gordon Roderick, Lord Stane, eldest son of the Earl of Stane. At that time Stane was fresh from Cambridge and, his father thought, properly equipped to succeed to the paternal dignities. Actually, however, because of certain quirks and idiosyncrasies of temperament, the young man was more concerned with the practical and decidedly unhistoric phases of the world about him. He had come into the world just when the luster and supremacy of mere title were not only being questioned but, in many instances, overshadowed by financial genius. At Cambridge he was an interested student of economics, politics, sociology, and inclined to give ear to the socialists of the Fabian school, without by any means losing consciousness of his prospective inheritance. Encountering Rider, himself interested almost solely in the immense companies which he was constantly being called upon to represent, Stane was easily converted to Rider’s view that the real lords of the future would be financiers. What the world needed was advanced material equipment, and the financier who devoted himself to supplying that need would be the greatest factor in society’s progression.
It was with such thoughts in his mind that Stane pursued the study of English company law in the office of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance. And one of his chief intimacies was with Elverson Johnson. In Johnson he saw a shrewd commoner with a determination to rise to high places, while in Stane, Johnson recognized an inheritor of social and financial privilege who yet chose to inform and bestir himself in practical pursuits.
Both Johnson and Stane had from the first recognized the enormous possibilities of the London underground traction field, and their interest was by no means confined to the formation of the Traffic Electrical Company, of which, in its origin, they formed the nucleus. When the City and South London, with its up-to-date construction, was first proposed, they and their friends put money into it, with the understanding that a combination of the two old lines then threading the heart of London—the Metropolitan and the District—was to be considered. Like Demosthenes addressing the Athenians, Johnson persisted in his belief that whoever could find the money to pick up enough of the ordinary stock of these two lines to provide a 51 per cent control, could calmly announce himself in charge and thereafter do as he pleased with them.
