As John Ryder sat there sphinx-like at the head of the directors’ table he reviewed all this in his mind.  His own part in the work was now done and well done, and he had come to this meeting to-day to tell them of his triumph.

The speaker, to whom he had paid such scant attention, resumed his seat, and there followed a pause and an intense silence which was broken only by the pattering of the rain against the big windows.  The directors turned expectantly to Ryder, waiting for him to speak.  What could the Colossus do now to save the situation?  Cries of “the Chair! the Chair!” arose on every side.  Senator Roberts leaned over to Ryder and whispered something in his ear.

With an acquiescent gesture, John Ryder tapped the table with his gavel and rose to address his fellow directors.  Instantly the room was silent again as the tomb.  One might have heard a pin drop, so intense was the attention.  All eyes were fixed on the chairman.  The air itself seemed charged with electricity, that needed but a spark to set it ablaze.

Speaking deliberately and dispassionately, the Master Dissembler began.

They had all listened carefully, he said, to what had been stated by previous speakers.  The situation no doubt was very critical, but they had weathered worse storms and he had every reason to hope they would outlive this storm.  It was true that public opinion was greatly incensed against the railroads and, indeed, against all organized capital, and was seeking to injure them through the courts.  For a time this agitation would hurt business and lessen the dividends, for it meant not only smaller annual earnings but that a lot of money must be spent in Washington.

The eyes of the listeners, who were hanging on every word, involuntarily turned in the direction of Senator Roberts, but the latter, at that moment busily engaged in rummaging among a lot of papers, seemed to have missed this significant allusion to the road’s expenses in the District of Columbia.  Ryder continued: 

In his experience such waves of reform were periodical and soon wear themselves out, when things go on just as they did before.  Much of the agitation, doubtless, was a strike for graft.  They would have to go down in their pockets, he supposed, and then these yellow newspapers and these yellow magazines that were barking at their heels would let them go.  But in regard to the particular case now at issue—­this Auburndale decision—­there had been no way of preventing it.  Influence had been used, but to no effect.  The thing to do now was to prevent any such disasters in future by removing the author of them.

The directors bent eagerly forward.  Had Ryder really got some plan up his sleeve after all?  The faces around the table looked brighter, and the directors cleared their throats and settled themselves down in their chairs as audiences do in the theatre when the drama is reaching its climax.