CHAPTER VI.
HAROLD PLAYS THE RAVEN.
Mason Compton, president and general manager, sat in his private office
in the works of the International Machine Company, chewing upon an
unlighted cigar and occasionally running his fingers through his
iron-gray hair as he compared and recompared two statements which lay
upon the desk before him.
"Damn strange," he muttered as he touched a button beneath the edge of
his desk. A boy entered the room. "Ask Mr. Bince if he will be good
enough to step in here a moment, please," said Compton; and a moment
later, when Harold Bince entered, the older man leaned back in his chair
and motioned the other to be seated.
"I can't understand these statements, Harold," said Compton. "Here is
one for August of last year and this is this August's statement of
costs. We never had a better month in the history of this organization
than last month, and yet our profits are not commensurate with the
volume of business that we did. That's the reason I sent for these cost
statements and have compared them, and I find that our costs have
increased out of all proportions to what is warranted. How do you
account for it?"
"Principally the increased cost of labor," replied Bince. "The same
holds true of everybody else. Every manufacturer in the country is in
the same plight we are."
"I know," agreed Compton, "that that is true to some measure. Both
labor and raw materials have advanced, but we have advanced our prices
correspondingly. In some instances it seems to me that our advance in
prices, particularly on our specialties, should have given us even a
handsomer profit over the increased cost of production than we formerly
received.
"In the last six months since I appointed you assistant manager I am
afraid that I have sort of let things get out of my grasp. I have a lot
of confidence in you, Harold, and now that you and Elizabeth are engaged
I feel even more inclined to let you shoulder the responsibilities that
I have carried alone from the inception of this organization. But I've
got to be mighty sure that you are going to do at least as well as I
did. You have shown a great deal of ability, but you are young and
haven't had the advantage of the years of experience that made it
possible for me to finally develop a business second to none in this
line in the West.
"I never had a son, and after Elizabeth's mother died I have lived in
the hope somehow that she would marry the sort of chap who would really
take the place of such a son as every man dreams of--some one who will
take his place and carry on his work when he is ready to lay aside his
tools. I liked your father, Harold. He was one of the best friends that
I ever had, and I can tell you now what I couldn't have you a month ago:
that when I employed you and put you in this position it was with the
hope that eventually you would fill the place in my business and in my
home of the son I never had."
"Do you think Elizabeth guessed what was in your mind?" asked Bince.
"I don't know," replied the older man. "I have tried never to say
anything to influence her. Years ago when she was younger we used to
talk about it half jokingly and shortly after you told me of your
engagement she remarked to me one day that she was happy, for she knew
you were going to be the sort of son I had wanted.
"I haven't anybody on earth but her, Harold, and when I die she gets the
business. I have arranged it in my will so you two will share and share
alike in profits after I go, but that will be some time. I am far from
being an old man, and I am a mighty healthy one. However, I should like
to be relieved of the active management. There are lot of things that I
have always wanted to do that I couldn't do because I couldn't spare the
time from my business.
"And so I want you to get thoroughly into the harness as soon as
possible, that I may turn over the entire management you. But I can't do
it, Harold, while the profits are diminishing."
As the older man's gaze fell again to statements before him the eyes of
younger man narrowed just a trifle as they rested upon Mason Compton,
and then as the older man looked up Bince's expression changed.
"I'll do my best, sir," he said, smiling. "Of course I realize, as you
must, that I have tried to learn a great deal in a short time. I think I
have reached a point now where I pretty thoroughly grasp the
possibilities and requirements of my work, and I am sure that from now
on you will note a decided change for the better on the right side of
the ledger."
"I am sure of it, my boy," said Compton heartily. "Don't think that I
have been finding fault with anything you have done. I just wanted to
call your attention to these figures. They mean something, and it's up
to you to find out just what they do mean."
And then there came a light tap on the door, which opened immediately
before any summons to enter had been given, and Elizabeth Compton
entered, followed by another young woman.
"Hello, there!" exclaimed Compton. "What gets us out so early? And
Harriet too! There is only one thing that would bring you girls in here
so early."
"And what's that?" asked Elizabeth.
"You are going shopping, and Elizabeth wants some money."
They all laughed. "You're a regular Sherlock Holmes!" exclaimed Harriet
Holden.
"How much?" asked Compton of his daughter, still smiling.
"How much have you?" asked Elizabeth. "I am utterly broke."
Compton turned to Bince. "Get her what she needs, Harold," he said.
The young man started to the door.
"Come with me, Elizabeth," he said; "we will go out to the cashier's
cage and get you fixed up."
They entered Bince's office, which adjoined Compton's.
"Wait here a minute, Elizabeth," said Bince. "How much do you want?
I'll get it for you and bring it back. I want to see you a moment alone
before you go."
She told him how much she wanted, and he was back shortly with the
currency.
"Elizabeth," he said, "I don't know whether you have noticed it or not,
because your father isn't a man to carry his troubles home, but I
believe that he is failing rapidly, largely from overwork. He worries
about conditions here which really do not exist. I have been trying to
take the load off his shoulders so that he could ease up a bit, but he
has got into a rut from which be cannot be guided.
"He will simply have to be lifted completely out of it, or be will stay
here and die in the harness. Everything is running splendidly, and now
that I have a good grasp of the business I can handle it. Don't you
suppose you could persuade him to take a trip? I know that he wants to
travel. He has told me so several times, and if he could get away from
here this fall and stay away for a year, if possible, it would make a
new man of him. I am really very much worried about him, and while I
hate to worry you I feel that you are the only person who can influence
him and that something ought to be done and done at once."
"Why, Harold," exclaimed the girl, "there is nothing the matter with
father! He was never better in his life nor more cheerful."
"That's the side of him that he lets you see," replied the man. "His
gaiety is all forced. If you could see him after you leave you would
realize that he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Your father is
not an old man in years, but he has placed a constant surtax on his
nervous system for the last twenty-five years without a let-up, and it
doesn't make any difference how good a machine may be it is going to
wear out some day, and the better the machine the more complete will be
the wreck when the final break occurs."
As he spoke he watched the girl's face, the changing expression of it,
which marked her growing mental perturbation.
"You really believe it is as bad as that, Harold?" she asked.
"It may be worse than I think," he said. "It is surely fully as bad."
The girl rose slowly from the chair. "I will try and persuade him to
see Dr. Earle."
The man took a step toward her. "I don't believe a doctor is what he
needs," he said quickly. "His condition is one that even a nerve
specialist might not diagnose correctly. It is only some one in a
position like mine, who has an opportunity to observe him almost hourly,
day by day, who would realize his condition. I doubt if he has any
organic trouble whatever. What he needs is a long rest, entirely free
from any thought whatever of business. At least, Elizabeth, it will do
him no harm, and it may prolong his life for years. I wouldn't go
messing around with any of these medical chaps."
"Well," she said at last, with a sigh, "I will talk to him and see if I
can't persuade him to take a trip. He has always wanted to visit Japan
and China."
"Just the thing!" exclaimed Bince; "just the thing for him. The long
sea voyage will do him a world of good. And now," he said, stepping to
her side and putting an arm around her.
She pushed him gently away.
"No," she said; "I do not feel like kissing now," and turning she
entered her father's office, followed by Bince.
