“You have found it?” said she, reading the news in the altered expression of his face.

“I hope so,” replied he.

She saw that he did not wish to discuss.  So she said, “I knew you would,” and went contentedly back into sleep again.

* * * * *

Next day he carefully read the company’s articles of incorporation to make sure that they contained no obstacle to his plan.  Then he went to Scarborough, and together they went to Judge Torrey.  Three days later there was a special meeting of the board of directors; the president, Charles Whitney, was unable to attend, but his Monday morning mail contained this extract from the minutes: 

“Mr. Ranger offered a resolution that an assessment of two thousand dollars be at once laid upon each share of the capital stock, the proceeds to be expended by the superintendent in betterments.  Seconded by Mr. Scarborough.  Unanimously passed.”

Whitney reread this very carefully.  He laid the letter down and stared at it.  Two thousand dollars a share meant that he, owner of four hundred and eighty-seven shares, would have to pay in cash nine hundred and seventy-four thousand dollars.  He ordered his private car attached to the noon express, and at five o’clock he was in Scarborough’s library.

“What is the meaning of this assessment?” he demanded, as Scarborough entered.

“Mr. Ranger explained the situation to us,” replied Scarborough.  “He showed us we had to choose between ruin and a complete reorganization with big improvements and extensions.”

“Lunacy, sheer lunacy!” cried Whitney.  “A meeting of the board must be called and the resolution rescinded.”

Scarborough simply looked at him, a smile in his eyes.

“I never heard of such an outrage!  You ask me to pay an assessment of nearly a million dollars on stock that is worthless.”

“And,” replied Scarborough, “at the end of the year we expect to levy another assessment of a thousand a share.”

Whitney had been tramping stormily up and down the room.  As Scarborough uttered those last words he halted.  He eyed his tranquil fellow-trustee, then seated himself, and said, with not a trace of his recent fury:  “You must know, Scarborough, the mills have no future.  I hadn’t the heart to say so before Dr. Hargrave.  But I supposed you were reading the signs right.  The plain truth is, this is no longer a good location for the flour industry.”

Scarborough waited before replying; when he did speak his tones were deliberate and suggestive of strong emotion well under control.  “True,” said he, “not just at present.  But Judge Beverwick, your friend and silent partner who sits on the federal bench in this district, is at the point of death.  I shall see to it that his successor is a man with a less intense prejudice against justice.  Thus we may be able to convince some of your friends in control of the railways that Saint X is as good a place for mills as any in the country.”