"No, he is not a crook," said Gunther quietly, repeating the words with slow emphasis. "He is a speculator, a great speculator, and he has been made the victim of greater speculators who covet his territory. Then, there is this to be said: I doubt if at the present moment any great public corporation would face an investigation without alarm." "What do you mean?" said Beecher, with his thoughts still wandering back to the handsome, stoic features of the Majendie of the night before. Gunther began to speak, and, as he became serious and animated, Beecher followed him with surprise, noting the vigor and vitality that transformed the young idler. "The present era we are passing through," said Gunther, "is probably America at its worst. We see only the gorgeous façades of things: the skyscraper, the industries that have developed into little kingdoms. We only try to comprehend statistics, and we are satisfied that we have bounded into greatness. As a matter of fact, the true test of the industrial greatness of a country is honesty. Dishonesty and graft are economic weakness—waste. A railroad that is spending a million a year to fight off hold-up state laws is by so much handicapped in its function of promoting commerce by low freight rates. A corporation that secures its franchise by bribing aldermen has taught them to blackmail in the future. It is difficult to say where the responsibility began—whether capital corrupted politics, or whether, in our unscientific political system, corruption was not inevitable." "What do you mean by that?"