The GovernorsOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Governors
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
"So this is my niece Virginia," he said, holding out both his hands. "I
am glad to see you. Take this chair close to me. I am getting an old
man, you see, and I have many whims. I like to have any one with whom I
am talking almost at my elbow. Now tell me, my dear, what sort of a
journey you have had. You look a little tired, or is it because
everything here is strange to you?"
All her fears seemed to be melting away. Never could she have imagined a
more harmless-looking, benevolent, and handsome old gentleman. He was
thin and of only moderate stature. His white hair, of which he still had
plenty, was parted in the middle and brushed away in little waves. He
was clean-shaven, and his grey eyes were at once soft and humorous. He
had a delicate mouth, refined features, and his slow, distinct speech
was pleasant, almost soothing to listen to. She felt suddenly an immense
wave of relief, and she realized perhaps for the first time how much she
had dreaded this meeting.
"I am not really tired at all," she assured him, "only you see I have
never been in a big city, and it is very noisy here, isn't it? Besides,
I have never seen anything so beautiful as this house. I think it
frightened me a little."
He laid his hand upon hers kindly.
"I imagine," he said, smiling, "that you will very soon get used to
this. You will have the opportunity, if you choose."
She laughed softly.
"If I choose!" she repeated. "Why, it is all like fairyland to me."
He nodded.
"You come," he said, "from a very quiet life. You will find things here
different. Do you know what these are?"
He touched a little row of black instruments which stood on the top of
his desk. She shook her head doubtfully.
"I am not quite sure," she admitted.
"They are telephones," he said. "This one"--touching the first--"is a
private wire to my offices in Wall Street. This one"--laying a finger
upon the second--"is a private wire to the bank of which I am president.
These two," he continued, "are connected with the two brokers whom I
employ. The other three are ordinary telephones--two for long distance
calls and one for the city. When you came in I touched this knob on the
floor beneath my foot. All the telephones were at once disconnected here
and connected with my secretaries' room. I can sit here at this table
and shake the money-markets of the world. I can send stocks up or down
at my will. I can ruin if I like, or I can enrich. It is the fashion
nowadays to speak lightly of the mere man of money, yet there is no king
on his throne who can shake the world as can we kings of the
money-market by the lifting even of a finger."
"Are you a millionaire?" she asked timidly. "But, of course, you must
be, or you could not live in a house like this."
He laid his hand gently upon hers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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