“We may shorten this discussion,” Norris Vine answered, “by my assuring you solemnly that neither one nor twenty million dollars would purchase from me this document.  I have spent years, and every scrap of such ability as I possess, in writing against, and lecturing upon, and attacking in every way that occurred to me, your abominable methods for collecting into the hands of a few what should be the comfort and happiness of the many.  I mean the wealth of this country.  Not even at the peril of my life would I part with the most efficient weapon which has ever yet come into my hands.”

“Then why, Mr. Vine,” Littleson asked, bending over from his place, “have you come here to see us?”

“I have come,” Vine answered, “because against you personally I bear no malice.  I am not well acquainted with the laws of this country, but it seems to me that the verbatim publication of this paper would mean for you something more than financial ruin.  It would probably mean the inside of a prison.  Personally, I have not the least doubt that every one of you deserves to see the inside of a prison, but I am not vindictive.  I give you your chance.  If a trip to Europe in the Kaiser Wilhelm to-morrow morning seems to you opportune, you will certainly escape reading the record of your own folly in the evening papers.”

Weiss threw away his half-chewed cigar, and taking another from the box, lit it deliberately.

“Now, Mr. Vine,” he said, “you are a young man whose attention has never been turned to the practical affairs of life.  You are a literary person, and you walk a good deal with your head in the clouds.  You haven’t the hard common sense of us business men to be able to determine exactly what the result in a commonplace world is of any definite action.  I can assure you that no prison in America could ever hold me and my friends, and that our risk is not in any way so serious as you imagine.  But, leaving out the question of our personal safety or convenience, I want to put this to you.  If you publish the contents of that document in the evening papers to-morrow, you will produce in America the greatest and most ruinous financial crisis that the country has ever known.”

For the first time Vine’s cold, immobile face showed some signs of interest.  He abandoned his somewhat negligent attitude, and sat up with an attentive expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Weiss struck the table in front of him with his open hand.

“Don’t you know,” he said, “that Bardsley, Littleson, Higgins, Phineas Duge, and myself, are the blood and the muscle of this country, so far as regards finance?  Every one of the great railroad stocks is controlled by us.  Prices are more or less what we make them.  Three of the greatest industrial undertakings which the world has ever known, in which are invested hundreds of millions of honest American capital, are still controlled by us.