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Page 90
"They might have let me know they were coming," she heard Bennett
mutter. "What do they want?"
"Guess they came on that noon train, sir," hazarded Adler. "They didn't
say what they wanted, just inquired for you."
"Who is it?" asked Lloyd, coming forward.
Bennett read off the names on the cards.
"Well, it's Tremlidge--that's the Tremlidge of the Times; he's the
editor and proprietor--and Hamilton Garlock--has something to do with
that new geographical society--president, I believe--and this one"--he
handed her the third card--"is a friend of yours, Craig V. Campbell, of
the Hercules Wrought Steel Company."
Lloyd stared. "What can they want?" she murmured, looking up to him from
the card in some perplexity. Bennett shook his head.
"Tell them to come up here," he said to Adler.
Lloyd hastily drew down her sleeve over her bare arm.
"Why up here, Ward?" she inquired abruptly.
"Should we have seen them downstairs?" he demanded with a frown. "I
suppose so; I didn't think. Don't go," he added, putting a hand on her
arm as she started for the door. "You might as well hear what they have
to say."
The visitors entered, Adler holding open the door--Campbell, well
groomed, clean-shaven, and gloved even in that warm weather; Tremlidge,
the editor of one of the greater daily papers of the City (and of the
country for the matter of that), who wore a monocle and carried a straw
hat under his arm; and Garlock, the vice-president of an international
geographical society, an old man, with beautiful white hair curling
about his ears, a great bow of black silk knotted about his
old-fashioned collar. The group presented, all unconsciously, three
great and highly developed phases of nineteenth-century
intelligence--science, manufactures, and journalism--each man of them a
master in his calling.
When the introductions and preliminaries were over, Bennett took up his
position again in front of the fireplace, leaning against the mantle,
his hands in his pockets. Lloyd sat opposite to him at the desk, resting
her elbow on the edge. Hanging against the wall behind her was the vast
chart of the arctic circle. Tremlidge, the editor, sat on the bamboo
sofa near the end of the room, his elbows on his knees, gently tapping
the floor with the ferrule of his slim walking-stick; Garlock, the
scientist, had dropped into the depths of a huge leather chair and
leaned back in it comfortably, his legs crossed, one boot swinging
gently; Campbell stood behind this chair, drumming on the back
occasionally with the fingers of one hand, speaking to Bennett over
Garlock's shoulder, and from time to time turning to Tremlidge for
corroboration and support of what he was saying.
Abruptly the conference began.
"Well, Mr. Bennett, you got our wire?" Campbell said by way of
commencement.
Bennett shook his head.
"No," he returned in some surprise; "no, I got no wire."
"That's strange," said Tremlidge. "I wired three days ago asking for
this interview. The address was right, I think. I wired: 'Care of Dr.
Pitts.' Isn't that right?"
"That probably accounts for it," answered Bennett. "This is Pitts's
house, but he does not live here now. Your despatch, no doubt, went to
his office in the City, and was forwarded to him. He's away just now,
travelling, I believe. But--you're here. That's the essential."
"Yes," murmured Garlock, looking to Campbell. "We're here, and we want
to have a talk with you."
Campbell, who had evidently been chosen spokesman, cleared his throat.
"Well, Mr. Bennett, I don't know just how to begin, so suppose
I begin at the beginning. Tremlidge and I belong to the same club in
the City, and in some way or other we have managed to see a good deal
of each other during the last half-dozen years. We find that we have
a good deal in common. I don't think his editorial columns are for
sale, and he doesn't believe there are blow-holes in my steel plates.
I really do believe we have certain convictions. Tremlidge seems to
have an idea that journalism can be clean and yet enterprising, and
tries to run his sheet accordingly, and I am afraid that I would not
make a bid for bridge girders below what it would cost to manufacture
them honestly. Tremlidge and I differ in politics; we hold conflicting
views as to municipal government; we attend different churches; we are
at variance in the matter of public education, of the tariff, of
emigration, and, heaven save the mark! of capital and labour, but we
tell ourselves that we are public-spirited and are a little proud that
God allowed us to be born in the United States; also it appears that we
have more money than Henry George believes to be right. Now," continued
Mr. Campbell, straightening himself as though he were about to touch
upon the real subject of his talk, "when the news of your return, Mr.
Bennett, was received, it was, as of course you understand, the one
topic of conversation in the streets, the clubs, the newspaper
offices--everywhere. Tremlidge and I met at our club at luncheon the
next week, and I remember perfectly well how long and how very earnestly
we talked of your work and of arctic exploration in general.
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