OINCIDENT with the rise in the freight rate the car shortage became a thing of the past. Orders from Clancy Brothers poured in and were filled as slowly as possible. Around them flourished a mass of acrid correspondence—complaints and threats from the consignees, tart rejoinders from Kent. In other quarters sales were slow and small, for the time was one of money stringency. Credit, once long and easy, contracted, and the men who held the purse-strings drew them tight.
Hagel, of the Commercial Bank, communicated his directors' decision as to the maturing notes, with his usual verbose solemnity. Done into plain English it amounted to this: The directors insisted on having the notes reduced by half, and they didn't care a hoot for the Kent current account.
Kent thereupon drew a check for his balance and took it to the Farmers' National, where he had already made tentative arrangements. New notes were signed, the Commercial paid off, and the securities held by them transferred to the Farmers'. That incident was closed.
Joe found McDowell a vast improvement upon Hagel. Where the latter had backed and filled and referred to his directors, McDowell, to whom responsibility was as the breath of life, decided instantly. He was less bound by routine and tradition, more willing to take a chance, and in closer touch with the exigencies of modern business. But for all that he never lost sight of his bank's interests, and his impartial and cool advice was of inestimable benefit to Joe. Also he made it very plain that while his institution would meet any reasonable proposition more than half way, it would protect itself first, last, and all the time. But their policy was a more liberal one than the Commercial's.
Thus Joe was able to pay the interest on the mortgages held by the Northern Loan Company. This was overdue, and the mortgagees had threatened legal proceedings. And he was able, also, to accompany his tender for the choice Wind River limits by a marked check, a necessary formality which had cost him some sleepless nights.
Naturally neither Crooks nor Kent sat down quietly under the new freight rate. They protested warmly, and, protests failing, deputed Locke to handle the matter for them. Locke went straight to headquarters, as was his custom. Henry J. Beemer, the general manager of the Peninsular Railway, tilted back his chair and knocked the ashes from his cigar.
“As a matter of fact, Locke,” he said, “there never was a freight rate that pleased everybody.”
“Certainly not this one,” Locke replied. “It pleases no one.”
“Oh, I don't know,” said Beemer. “It's not such a bad rate. We have the usual number of complaints, but nothing more. Before promulgating it we made inquiries”
“From my clients?” Locke interrupted sceptically.
“No, I'm afraid we overlooked them. But we have letters from several large lumber shippers and dealers. Like to read them?”
Locke nodded. He perused the letters produced, with a sardonic smile.
“Very pretty,” he commented, handing them back. “You couldn't have worded them better yourself. They wouldn't deceive a child.”
“Do you insinuate that they are not genuine?” asked Beemer sharply, frowning.
“They're not forgeries, but that lets them out,” said Locke. “They're inspired, every one of them. The signatories would admit it under oath, too. Are you paying them rebates?”
“Illegal,” said Beemer, recovering his usual suavity.
“Yes—but are you?” Locke retorted.
“I'm not in the witness box,” said Beemer.
“You will be, one of these days,” Locke predicted. “Then we'll thresh out the letters and the rebate question, if I have the cross-examining of you.”
Beemer smiled rather uneasily. “We don't seem to be getting ahead. What do you want us to do?”
“Restore the old rate. My clients—or one of them—made contracts on the faith of it.”
“Shouldn't have done it,” said Beemer. “Good heavens! You, as a lawyer, can't hold us responsible for that.”
“No, but you see how the new rate hits them.”
“We were losing money on the old one,” said Beemer. “This has just gone into effect. We must see how it works. I won't promise anything, but later we may be able to reduce it.”
“That isn't satisfactory,” Locke told him bluntly. “I shall advise my clients to file a complaint with the Transportation Commission.”
Beemer laughed. The commission was notoriously slow and over-loaded with work. Taken in its order of priority the complaint would not, in all probability, be disposed of inside a year.
“Go ahead!” he said indifferently.
“All right,” said Locke. “Give me a list of your directors.”
“What do you want that for?”