“As you know, I am a very busy man, Mr. Crewe,” said the railroad president.

“No one appreciates that more fully than I do, Mr. Flint,” said Mr. Crewe; “I haven’t many idle hours myself.  I think you will find the bills and my comments on them well worth your consideration from the point of view of advantage to your railroad.  They are typewritten, and in concrete form.  In fact, the Northeastern Railroads and myself must work together to our mutual advantage—­that has become quite clear to me.  I shall have need of your help in passing the measures.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand you, Mr. Crewe,” said Mr. Flint, putting down the papers.

“That is,” said Mr. Crewe, “if you approve of the bills, and I am confident that I shall be able to convince you.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked the railroad president.

“Well, in the first place,” said Mr. Crewe, unabashed, “send word to your man Braden that you’ve seen me and it’s all right.”

“I assure you,” answered Mr. Flint, giving evidence for the first time of a loss of patience, “that neither the Northeastern Railroads nor myself, have any more to do with this Braden than you have.”

Mr. Crewe, being a man of the world, looked incredulous.

“Senator,” Mr. Flint continued, turning to Mr. Whitredge, “you know as much about politics in this State as any man of my acquaintance, have you ever heard of any connection between this Braden and the Northeastern Railroads?”

The senator had a laugh that was particularly disarming.

“Bless your soul, no,” he replied.  “You will pardon me, Mr. Crewe, but you must have been listening to some farmer’s tale.  The railroad is the bugaboo in all these country romances.  I’ve seen old Job Braden at conventions ever since I was a lad.  He’s a back number, one of the few remaining disciples and imitators of Jethro Bass:  talks like him and acts like him.  In the old days when there were a lot of little railroads, he and Bijah Bixby and a few others used to make something out of them, but since the consolidation, and Mr. Flint’s presidency, Job stays at home.  They tell me he runs Leith yet.  You’d better go over and fix it up with him.”

A somewhat sarcastic smile of satisfaction was playing over Mr. Flint’s face as he listened to the senator’s words.  As a matter of fact, they were very nearly true as regarded Job Braden, but Mr. Crewe may be pardoned for thinking that Mr. Flint was not showing him quite the confidence due from one business and corporation man to another.  He was by no means abashed,—­Mr. Crewe had too much spirit for that.  He merely became—­as a man whose watchword is “thorough” will—­a little more combative.

“Well, read the bills anyway, Mr. Flint, and I’ll come and go over them with you.  You can’t fail to see my arguments, and all I ask is that you throw the weight of your organization at the State capital for them when they come up.”