Imperative building operations commence immediately.  Local skepticism injurious and delays dangerous.  We must show good faith to our New York friends.  J. P. M. insists upon knowing promptly where we stand with Sequoia city council.  See them immediately and secure temporary franchise, if possible, to enable us to cross Water Street at B Street and build out Front Street.  Your arrangement with Cardigan for use of his mill-dock and spur for unloading material from steamer ratified by board but regarded as hold-up.  If your judgment indicates no hold-up on permanent franchise, commence active operations immediately upon acquisition of permanent franchise.  Engage local labour as far as possible.  Cannot impress upon you too fully necessity for getting busy, as road must be completed in three years if our plans are to bear fruit and time is all too short.  Impress this upon city council and wire answer to-morrow.

Hockley.

This telegram, as the Mayor observed, was dated that day and addressed to Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, Hotel Sequoia, Sequoia, Calif.  Also, with a keen eye to minor details, lie noted that it had been filed at San Francisco subsequent to Ogilvy’s visit to him that afternoon.

“Ah-h-h!” breathed His Honour.  “That accounts for his failure to bring the matter up at our interview.  Upon his return to the hotel he found this telegram and got busy at once.  By Jupiter, this looks like business.  Henry, how did you come into possession of this telegram?”

“It must have been mixed up in the documents Ogilvy left with me.  I found it on my desk when I was sorting out the papers, and in my capacity of attorney for the N.C.O.  I had no hesitancy in reading it.”

“Well, I do declare!  Wonder who Hockley is.  Never heard of that fellow in connection with the N.C.O.”

“Hockley doesn’t matter,” young Henry declared triumphantly, “although I’d bet a hat he’s one of those heavy-weight Wall Street fellows and one of J.P.M’s vice-presidents, probably.  J.P.M., of course, is the man behind.”

“Who the devil is J.P.M.?”

Henry smiled tolerantly upon his ignorant and guileless parent.  “Well, how would J. Pierpont Morgan do for a guess?” he queried.

“Hell’s bells and panther-tracks!” Mayor Poundstone started as if snake-bitten.  “I should say you have hooked a big fish.  Boy, you’ve landed a whale!” And the Mayor whistled softly in his amazement and delight.  “By golly, to think of you getting in with that bunch!  Tremendyous!  Per-fect-ly tree-mend-yous!  Did Ogilvy say anything about future business?”

“He did.  Said if I proved satisfactory, he would probably take me on and pay the customary retainer given all of their corporation attorneys.”

“Well, by golly, he’d better take you on!  I had a notion that chap Ogilvy was smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on and who does the buttering.”

“If I could guarantee Mr. Ogilvy that temporary franchise mentioned in his telegram, it might help me to get in right with J.P.M, at the start,” his hopeful suggested.  “I guess it would be kind of poor to be taken on as one of the regular staff of attorneys for a Morgan corporation, eh?  Say, they pay those chaps as high as fifty thousand dollars a year retainer!”