“Why can’t you?”

“Because it will depend very largely upon the authority Mr. Colbrith or the board sees fit to give me.  At present, you will remember, I am still only a division superintendent—­Mr. North’s subordinate, in fact, and—­”

“Say it out loud,” encouraged Adair.

“I don’t like to, but I suppose it can’t be helped.  Up to now I have been acting under special orders, as you may say, in a purely financial transaction.  But my commission expired five minutes ago when the stock deal went through.  When it comes to issuing orders in the operating and transportation department, I have no authority whatever.  Mr. North is general manager, and I suppose his jurisdiction will now be extended to cover the new line, won’t it?”

“Not much!” retorted the amateur promoter.  “You are going to be given a free hand in this from the word go.  From what I can learn, North has been an obstructor, all along, hasn’t he?”

“I can’t say that,” said Ford, just, even to an enemy.  “To be right honest about it, I shall have to confess that I slurred him entirely—­went over his head.”

“For good reasons, no doubt, only you are too charitable to give them.  Never mind:  as I say, you are going to have a free hand.  This is your pie and nobody else is going to cut it for you.”  And when the party reached the hotel there was another conference of two behind closed doors, in which Ford and the general counsel did not participate.

An hour later, when Adair came down from the president’s room, he thrust a sheaf of penciled printers’ copy into Ford’s hands.

“There you are,” he said.  “I’ve done the best I could for you on such short notice—­with Uncle Sidney trying his level best to get a cross reference to the board before taking action.  Get these circulars through a print shop and into the mails.  You’ll see that one of them announces your appointment, effective to-day, as Assistant to the President.  That was as far as Uncle Sidney could be dragged.  It doesn’t give you a straight flush; but your hand will beat North’s if it comes to a show-down between you.  Just the same, I shouldn’t quarrel with North, if I were you.  Uncle Sidney thinks the sun rises and sets in him.”

Ford nodded, and while he was reading hastily through the sheaf of pencilings a boy brought him a telegram.  When he opened the envelope, Kenneth had turned away.  But Adair was looking on, and he did not fail to remark the startling effect of the few typewritten words upon the engineer.

“Whereabouts does it hit us this time?” he inquired, lighting a fresh cigarette.

“In the neck,” said Ford curtly.  “The possibility occurred to me yesterday—­Pacific Southwestern stock being so badly scattered among small holders.  I wired a broker, a good friend of mine, to pick up a few shares on my account.  Here is what he says:  ’Market bone dry.  No offerings of P. S-W. at any price.’”