The magnitude of the deal narrowed his field of operations alarmingly, and he had already learned what a serious effect upon capital the agitation about Alaska had produced.  More than once he had found men who were willing to invest but feared the effect of public sentiment.  Popular magazines, newspapers like The Review, and writers like Eliza Appleton had been largely to blame for the wrong.  They had misunderstood the problem and misinterpreted the spirit of commercial progress.  But, strangely enough, he felt no bitterness at thought of Eliza.  On the contrary, his heart softened in a sort of friendly yearning for her company.  He would have liked to talk the matter over with her.

Looking the situation squarely in the face, he realized that he must face a crash or raise two million dollars within the next month.  That meant seventy thousand dollars a day.  It was a man-sized task.

He bought himself a cigar at the corner, hailed a taxicab, and was driven all the way up town to the Holland House.  Once there, he established himself in that corner of the men’s cafe which he always frequented.

The waiter who served him lingered to say: 

“It’s good to see you back in your ‘office’ again.  You’ve been a long time away, sir.”

O’Neil smiled as he left a silver dollar on the tray.

“It’s good to be back, Joe,” he said.  “This time I may not leave.”

XVIII

HOW THE MAN BECAME A PRINCE AGAIN

O’Neil had the faculty of sleeping well, in spite of the most tormenting worries.  He arose on the morning after his interview with Mr. Heidlemann, ready to begin the struggle with all his normal energy and confidence.  But the day brought him only discouragement.  He had a large acquaintance, the mention of his name in quarters where he was not personally known gained him respectful attention; but he found himself working in the shadow of the Copper Trust, and its silent influence overcame his strongest arguments.  One banker expressed the general attitude by saying: 

“If the Heidlemanns were not in the field we might help you, but it would be financial suicide to oppose them.”

“There’s no opposition about it,” Murray assured him.  “If I build that bridge they’ll buy us out.”

At this his hearer very naturally wished to know why, if the bridge were indeed feasible, the Heidlemanns delayed action; and O’Neil had to fall back upon a recital of the facts, realizing perfectly that they failed to carry conviction.

No one, it seemed, cared to risk even a semblance of rivalry with that monstrous aggregation of capital, for the interlacing of financial interests was amazingly intricate, and financiers were fearful of the least misstep.  Everywhere O’Neil encountered the same disheartening timidity.  His battle, it seemed, had been lost before it was begun.