For all that John could or could not do, the American Steel Company came itself to the brink. It could not forever go on making steel rails at a loss. How far short of bankruptcy would it give up the struggle and stop? The rocks were already in sight. Seeing them clearly, John did not act. He stood still and waited as if fascinated. The longer he waited the more desperate was the chance of saving the company. Its credit was sinking. All of this he saw. “Then what am I waiting for?” he would ask himself, and postpone the answer. Twice he had called the directors together to lay before them a plan of salvage, which was to abandon rail making and convert the plant to other uses; and each time at the last minute he changed his mind. One morning at breakfast he was electrified by a single black line in his newspaper. _“Damascus Mill Closes.”_ Beneath it was this dispatch: “New Damascus, June 11.--The Damascus mill closed down last night in all departments for the first time in its history. There is no explanation. Enoch Gib is understood to be ill.” John knew what this meant. The end had come. Having verified the news by telegraph he went to Slaymaker and told him for the first time enough of the history of New Damascus and its people to illuminate what had been going on. “Why do you tell me this now?” Slaymaker asked. “Isn’t it a great relief?” said John. “The ghastly game that’s nearly ruined us is at an end.” “There’s some other reason,” Slaymaker insisted. “You have lost a lot of money with me in American Steel,” John said. “Now of course it will all come back. Still, you might be able to turn this information to special advantage. There are two or three idle rail mills that could be picked up for nothing.” Slaymaker took time to reflect. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll help.” John shook his head. “It’s an apple I don’t like the taste of. If I were in your place I’d know what to do. That’s why I have told you. But leave me out of it entirely.” “I can’t for the life of me see why you shouldn’t,” said Slaymaker. “Neither can I,” said John. “There’s no reason. Say I’m superstitious and let it drop.” “There’s nothing the matter with the apple though?” asked Slaymaker. “Not for you,” said John. He left the banker on the edge of his chair. When he arrived at his own office Thane was there waiting. “We’ve got a telegram Enoch is dying. Thought maybe as you would go along with us.” “How does Mrs. Thane take it?” “Cold and still,” said Thane. “But you can’t tell.” “Does she want me to go?” “She knows I’m asking you,” said Thane. “There’s just time. She’s at the depot.” John turned and went with him. XXIX