Walters entered. He was one of the great railway presidents, was universally regarded as a power, though I, of course, knew that he, like so many other presidents of railways, of individual corporations, of banks, of insurance companies, and high political officials in cities, states and the nation, was little more than a figurehead put up and used by the inside financial ring. As he shifted from leg to leg, holding his hat and trying to steady his twitching upper lip, he looked as one of his smallest section-bosses would have looked, if called up for a wigging. Roebuck shook hands cordially with him, responded to his nervous glance at me with: “Blacklock is practically in our directory.” We all sat, then Roebuck began in his kindliest tone: “We have decided, Walters, that we must give your place to a stronger man. Your gross receipts, outside of coal, have fallen rapidly and steadily for the past three quarters. You were put into the presidency to bring them up. They have shown no change beyond what might have been expected in the natural fluctuations of freight. We calculated on resuming dividends a year ago. We have barely been able to meet the interest on our bonds.” “But, Mr. Roebuck,” pleaded Walters, “you doubled the bonded indebtedness of the road just before I took charge.” “The money went into improvements, into increasing your facilities, did it not?” inquired Roebuck, his paw as soft as a playful tiger's. “Part of it,” said Walters. “But you remember the reorganizing syndicate got five millions, and then the contracts for the new work had to be given to construction companies in which directors of the road were silent partners. Then they are interested in the supply companies from which I must buy. You know what all that means, Mr. Roebuck.” “No doubt,” said Roebuck, still smooth and soft. “But if there was waste, you should have reported--” “To whom?” demanded Walters. “Every one of our directors, including yourself, Mr. Roebuck, is a stock-holder--a large stock-holder--in one or more of those companies.” “Have you proof of this, Walters?” asked Roebuck, looking profoundly shocked. “It's a very grave charge--a criminal charge.” “Proof?” said Walters, “You know how that is. The real books of all big companies are kept in the memories of the directors--and mighty treacherous memories they are.” This with a nervous laugh. “As for the holdings of directors in construction and supply companies--most of those holdings are in other names--all of them are disguised where the connection is direct.” Roebuck shook his head sadly. “You admit, then, that you have allowed millions of the road's money to be wasted, that you made no complaint, no effort to stop the waste; and your only defense is that you _suspect_ the directors of fraud. And you accuse them to excuse yourself--accuse them with no proof. Were you in any of those companies, Walters?” “No,” he said, his eyes shifting.