“Dory suggested—­” began Arthur, and stopped.

“That you be put in as manager?”

“How did you know that?”

“It’s the sensible thing.  It’s the only thing,” answered his wife.  “And Dory has the genius of good sense.  You ought to go to Scarborough and ask for the place.  Take Dory with you.”

“That’s good advice,” said Arthur, heartily.

Madelene laughed.  “When a man praises a woman’s advice, it means she has told him to do what he had made up his mind to do anyhow.”

* * * * *

Next day Scarborough called a meeting of the trustees.  Down from Chicago came Whitney—­at the greatest personal inconvenience, so he showed his colleagues, but eager to do anything for Tecumseh.  Scarborough gave a clear and appalling account of how the Ranger-Whitney Company’s prosperity was slipping into the abyss like a caving sand bank, on all sides, apparently under pressure of forces beyond human control.  “In view of the facts,” said he, in conclusion, “our sole hope is in putting ourselves to one side and giving an entirely new management an entirely free hand.”

Whitney had listened to Scarborough’s speech with the funereal countenance befitting so melancholy a recital.  As Scarborough finished and sank back in his chair, he said, with energy and heartiness, “I agree with you, senator.  The lawyers tell me there are as yet no signs of a case against the railways.  Besides, the trouble seems to be, as I feared, deeper than this possible rebating.  Jenkins—­one of my best men—­I sent him down to help Howells out—­he’s clearly an utter failure—­utter!  And I am getting old.  The new conditions of business life call for young men with open minds.”

“No, no!” protested Dr. Hargrave.  “I will not consent to any change that takes your hand off the lever, my friend.  These are stormy times in our industrial world, and we need the wise, experienced pilot.”

Scarborough had feared this; but he and Dory, forced to choose between taking him into their confidence and boldly challenging the man in whom he believed implicitly, had chosen the far safer course.  “While Mr. Whitney must appreciate your eulogy, doctor,” said he, suave yet with a certain iciness, “I think he will insist upon the trial of the only plan that offers.  In our plight we must not shrink from desperate remedies—­even a remedy as desperate as eliminating the one man who understands the business from end to end.”  This last with slight emphasis and a steady look at Whitney.

Whitney reddened.  “We need not waste words,” said he, in his bluff, sharp voice.  “The senator and I are in accord, and we are the majority.”

“At least, Mr. Whitney,” said the doctor, “you must suggest the new man.  You know the business world.  We don’t.”

A long pause; then from Whitney:  “Why not try young Ranger?”

Scarborough looked at him in frank amazement.  By what process of infernal telepathy had he found out?  Or was there some deep reason why Arthur would be the best possible man for his purpose, if his purpose was indeed malign?  Was Arthur his tool?  Or was Arthur subtly making tools of both Whitney and himself?