“I understand all that too,” Mr. Witherbee went on, “perfectly well. Gentlemen, where I come from we act quickly, but we look before we leap. During the past twenty-four hours I have examined into the franchise of those gasworks. I find that nearly forty years ago your common council issued to the original promoters and owners of the gas company a ninety-year charter, giving the use of any and all of your streets, not only for the laying of gas mains, but for practically all other purposes. It was an unwise thing to do, but it was done and it stands so today. Gentlemen, this is a growing community in the midst of a rich country. I violate no confidence in telling you that capital is looking this way. I am merely the forerunner--the first in the field. The Gatins crowd, in Chicago, has its eyes upon this territory, as I have reason to know. You are, of course, acquainted with the Gatins crowd?” he said in a tone of putting a question. Major Covington, who made a point of never admitting that he didn't know everything, nodded gravely and murmured the name over to himself as though he were trying to remember Gatins' initials. The others sat silent, impressed more than ever with the wisdom of this stranger who had so many pertinent facts at his finger tips. “Suppose now,” went on Mr. Witherbee--“suppose, now, that Ike Gratins and his crowd should come down here and find out what I have found out and should buy out that gas company. Why, gentlemen, under the terms of that old franchise, those people could actually lay tracks right through the streets of this little city of yours. They could parallel our lines--they could give us active opposition right here on the home ground. It might mean a hard fight. Therefore I need those gasworks. I may shut them up or I may run them--but I need them in my business. “I have inquired into the ownership of this concern,” continued Mr. Witherbee before any one could interrupt him, “and I find it was recently purchased outright by a gentleman from somewhere up my way named--named--” He snapped his fingers impatiently. “Named Betts,” supplied Doctor Lake--“named Henry Betts.” “Quite so,” Mr. Witherbee assented. “Thank you, doctor--Betts is the name. Now the fact that the whole property is vested in one man simplifies the matter--doesn't it? Of course I would not care to go to this Mr. Betts in person. You understand that.” If they didn't understand they let on they did, merely nodding and waiting for more light to be let in. “Once let it be known that I was personally interested in a consolidation of your lighting plants, and this Mr. Betts, if I know anything about human nature, would advance his valuation far beyond its proper figure. Therefore I cannot afford to be known in the matter. You see that?” They agreed that they saw.