Meegan studied his cigar with attentively knit brows before he inquired:  “Does Burton assume such proportions in Coal and Ore as to suggest turning the balance of control?  Is that what you mean?”

“Not yet.”  Malone drew from his pocket a small note-book and consulted its pages.  “We hold a safe balance in our own hands, barring treachery, but we have let him gain a stronger nucleus than now seems advisable.  You gentlemen know that we have always held out the impression that only a small amount of Consolidated stock is offered the general public.”

“As we also know,” amended Harrison bluntly, “that in fact a large proportion of it is in the hands of the casual investor.  Still another fact is sure.  Burton’s sobriquet of the Great Bear was not gratuitously bestowed.  If we read him out of meeting he will bring a panic about our cars.”

Malone puffed for a space at his cigar in silence.  The quiet drone of the engines came up from below, and the moonlight fell in a broad band of radiance on the foaming ribbon of the wake.

“I have also considered that point,” he said at last.  “Burton has two cardinal maxims of finance.  One is that Securities are usually sold above their intrinsic worth.  The other is that Cash alone is an absolutely stable form of property.  Acting on these two principles, he is doubtless building to the logical end.  Some day he will make another raid—­and, if he is allowed to select the day and the conditions, it will be a panic-making raid.  If an enemy’s attack is inevitable the best defense is offense.  There is no wisdom in giving him time to prepare.  Every day we stand idle his power grows.  We must show enough strength at the next meeting of our stock-holders to reorganize the Coal and Ore directorate.”

Harrison rose and walked to the rail.  He stood for a moment looking out, then came back and spoke quickly.

“If this is to be done we should let no more time slip by.  It’s a safe bet that he isn’t wasting days.”

Malone’s fist crashed down on the arm of his chair.  He rose, too, and paced backward and forward, talking as he walked.

“Waste time!  By heaven, we must waste no minute.  We must go after him and bring in his pelt.  We must treat him like a wolf prowling around our sheep-folds.  There can be no peace for any of us until he is destroyed ... and, damn him, I mean to see that it’s done!”

The others watched the broad shoulders of the head baron and the resolute carriage of the head, thrown back as if in challenge.  He paused once to relight the cigar which in his vehemence he had let die, and as the match flared they saw that his eyes blazed and his features were set in that wrath which the Street feared.

“By heaven,” exclaimed Malone fiercely, “we’ve got to smash him—­damn him!”

CHAPTER XIII

Mary Burton was discovering some things about June.  She had often watched lovers leaning silently on a deck-rail, with eyes fixed on a moonlit wake and hands that crept surreptitiously together.  She had envied the credulity of these people and turned away with an ache and emptiness in her own heart.