Didactic fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
"Mr. Hart, I'm going to give you the chance of your life to make a lump
of money, sure and quick, and no gold-brick proposition, either."
Graves poured himself a drink, and meditatively twirled the small glass
between his fat fingers before he explained himself.
"You do the right thing by me in this school job, and I'll see that you
are properly fixed on the hotel scheme."
The details of the plan came cautiously and slowly from the contractor,
while Hart listened in a non-committal frame of mind. The thing
proposed was really very simple. The architect was to draw the school
specifications so that only a few firms would bid, and of these only
one or two would be genuine competitors. The contractor would see to
it that there were enough bidders at approximately his own figure to
prevent suspicion on the part of the trustees. In return for this
favor, Graves offered a large block of stock in the hotel company, "for
doing the plans of the hotel," which he was ready to guarantee would be
worth a certain sum.
Of course there was an unspecified item in the transaction, which was
perfectly obvious to the architect. If the contractor was ready to
make these terms in order to obtain the school, there must be enough in
the job above the legitimate profit on the contract to make it well
worth his while. The architect saw, less sharply, that this extra
profit would be made, more or less, with his professional connivance.
It would be impossible to get the trustees to accept bids so high that
the contractor could reap his profit and still do the work up to the
specifications. It would be necessary to specify needlessly elaborate
steel work, cut stone, and interior finish, with the understanding that
the Graves Company would not be forced to live up to these gilt-edged
specifications. It might be necessary, even, to prepare two sets of
specifications for the more important parts of the contract,--one for
the bidding, and one for the use of the subcontractors,--although that
would be dangerous.
Hart smoked and listened, while Graves, having outlined his plan, spoke
of the profit to the architect.
"If you want, I'll agree to take the hotel stock off your hands at par
from time to time as the two buildings go up. You can figure out now
what you'll make. It will not be far from seventy thousand dollars,
what with your commissions and the stock. And I'll guarantee, Hart,
that you'll have no trouble. That drunken Dutchman can work over any
details that have to be fixed--my own expense. Nothing need go through
your office that ain't first-class and regular."
The plan seemed perfectly simple, and the architect's imagination
fastened on the big bait which the contractor held out. Graves
repeated slowly in his thick tones:--
"A year, or say eighteen months, from now, you'll have about
seventy-five thousand dollars in the bank."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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