“They say there will be fewer men at work, not only in the offices but on the whole railway system, and they don’t like that in Manitou--ah, no, they don’t!” she urged.
“They’re right in a sense,” he answered. “But the men will be employed at other things, which won’t represent waste and capital overlapping. Overlapping capital hits everybody in the end. But who says all that? Who raises the cry of ‘wolf’ in Manitou?”
“A good many people say it now,” she answered, “but I think Felix Marchand said it first. He is against you, and he is dangerous.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, if any fool said it, it would be the same!” he answered. “That’s a fire easily lighted; though it sometimes burns long and hard.” He frowned, and a fighting look came into his face.
“Then you know all that is working against you in Manitou--working harder than ever before?”
“I think I do, but I probably don’t know all. Have you any special news about it?”
“Felix Marchand is spending money among the men. They are going on strike on your railways and in the mills.”
“What mills--in Manitou?” he asked abruptly. “In both towns.”
He laughed harshly. “That’s a tall order,” he said sharply. “Both towns--I don’t think so, not yet.”
“A sympathetic strike is what he calls it,” she rejoined.
“Yes, a row over some imagined grievance on the railway, and all the men in all the factories to strike--that’s the new game of the modern labour agitator! Marchand has been travelling in France,” he added disdainfully, “but he has brought his goods to the wrong shop. What do the priests--what does Monseigneur Lourde say to it all?”
“I am not a Catholic,” she replied gravely. “I’ve heard, though, that Monseigneur is trying to stop the trouble. But--” She paused.
“Yes--but?” he asked. “What were you going to say?”
“But there are many roughs in Manitou, and Felix Marchand makes friends with them. I don’t think the priests will be able to help much in the end, and if it is to be Manitou against Lebanon, you can’t expect a great deal.”
“I never expect more than I get--generally less,” he answered grimly; and he moved the gun about on his knees restlessly, fingering the lock and the trigger softly.
“I am sure Felix Marchand means you harm,” she persisted.