Arthur glanced quickly at the great financier, suspicion and wonder in his eyes.

“But I want it to be a value when I give it,” continued Whitney; “not the worse than worthless paper it threatens to become.  Scarborough and Dr. Hargrave are splendid men.  No one honors them more highly than I do.  But they are not business men.  And who will be their successors?  Probably men even less practical.”

Arthur, keen-witted but young, acute but youthfully ready to attribute the generous motive rather than the sinister, felt that he was getting a new light on Whitney’s character.  Perhaps Whitney wasn’t so unworthy, after all.  Perhaps, in trying to wreck the business and so get hold of it, he had been carrying out a really noble purpose, in the unscrupulous way characteristic of the leaders of the world of commerce and finance.  To Whitney he said:  “I haven’t given any thought to these matters.”  With a good-natured laugh of raillery:  “You have kept me too busy.”

Whitney smiled—­an admission that yet did not commit him.  “When you’ve lived a while longer, Arthur,” said he, “you’ll not be so swift and harsh in your judgments of men who have to lay the far-sighted plans and have to deal with mankind as it is, not as it ought to be.  However, by that time the Ranger-Whitney Company will be wiped out.  It’s a pity.  If only there were some way of getting the control definitely in your hands—­where your father would have put it if he had lived.  It’s a shame to permit his life work and his plans for the university to be demolished.  In your place I’d not permit it.”

Arthur slowly flushed.  Without looking at Whitney, he said:  “I don’t see how I could prevent it.”

Whitney studied his flushed face, his lowered eyes, reflected carefully on the longing note in the voice in which he had made that statement, a note that changed it to a question.  “Control could be got only by ownership,” explained he.  “If I were sure you were working with a definite, practical purpose really to secure the future of the company, I’d go heartily into your assessment plan.  In fact, I’d—­” Whitney was feeling his way.  The change in Arthur’s expression, the sudden tightening of the lips, warned him that he was about to go too far, that he had sowed as much seed as it was wise to sow at that time.  He dropped the subject abruptly, saying:  “But I’ve got to go up to the bank before train time.  I’m glad we’ve had this little talk.  Something of value may grow out of it.  Think it over, and if any new ideas come to you run up to Chicago and see me.”