And then John had taken him by the arm and led him to the door of the Room and pushed him in. Only at the door had he dared release his hold. But he need not have feared. To the president of the “B. and Q.” Road, the green table--with those mighty, iron-bounded men around it--was like a challenge. He had entered the room with positive eclat; and now he sat with quiet face listening to the report, a little cynical smile edging his lips. It was the look the directors knew well They trusted it as they looked up from their paper.....It was the old, dividend look. John’s eye dropped to it for a moment and his voice quickened a little. He had come to a difficult part of the report. It was delicate treading here--“Equipment for the coming year: Thirty-nine new engines will be needed--twelve of the big Pacific type, the numbers running from 3,517 to 3,528, and ten combination fast freight and passenger engines of the 2,000 series. The other seventeen....” He felt the hoard quiver subtly. They stirred in their places. He knew, without looking up, the inquiring glances gathering on the impassive face at the head of the table.... “The other seventeen will be switching engines and the heaviest kind of freight engines...” The voice went quietly on, but his hand had dropped ever so lightly on the shoulder beside him as he turned a page of the report. The shoulder straightened beneath the touch. The president of the road looked up and nodded to the swift, darting glances--once--twice, the old, keen, reassuring look--intrepid and cool. The directors turned the pages with easier fingers, but a new alertness was in the air. These were details that any one could grasp--with their implications.... “Six hundred box cars--forty passenger coaches, each to cost $6,500.” The look of sleepy content was banished from the board. But the president of the road met the glances that traveled toward him, with steady front. The figures had startled the directors, but they seemed as music in his ears. “Thirty-nine engines--twelve of the big Pacific type--” sang to him! He sat a little straighter, his quick nod assenting to each detail and vouching for items that might so easily have stirred a challenge. The directors had no eyes for the young man taking the papers from Tetlow’s hand, reading them one by one. He was hardly more than a Voice. They did not note that the stubby hand as it reached out to take a paper from the trembling one closed upon it firmly for a minute and that the hand ceased to shake. When the next item was read, the hand lifted itself from the table with a little gesture of pride and assent. The proposed improvements and equipment would cost a round million,--But the road could stand a million dollars--and more.... The lifted hand had said this eloquently before it dropped. The room breathed more easily, and into the voice that read the items there crept a quiet note of relief. Twenty minutes more. Ten minutes--now... Five minutes....