Construction industry -- Fiction; Labor unions -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Strikes and lockouts -- Fiction
Presently her new pride had an unexpected gratification. In the midst of
her dreams there was a rapping at the hall door. Opening it she found
before her a man she had seen only once--Tom had pointed him out to her
one Sunday when they had walked on Fifth Avenue--but she recognized him
immediately.
"Is Mr. Keating at home?" the man asked.
"Yes." Maggie, awed and embarrassed, led the way into the sitting-room.
"Mr. Keating," said the man, in a quiet, even voice.
"Mr. Baxter!" Tom ejaculated.
"I saw in the papers this morning that you were hurt. Thank you very
much, Mrs. Keating." He closed the door after Maggie had withdrawn, as
though paying her a courtesy by the act, and sat down in the chair she
had pushed beside the couch for him. "Your injury is not serious, I
hope."
Tom regarded the contractor with open amazement. "No," he managed to
say. "It will keep me in the house for a while, though."
"I thought so, and that's why I came. I saw from the papers that you
would doubtless be the next leader of the union. As you know, it is
highly important to both sides that we come to an agreement about the
strike as early as possible. It seemed to me desirable that you and I
have a chat first and arrange for a meeting of our respective
committees. And since I knew you could not come to see me, I have come
to see you."
Mr. Baxter delivered these prepared sentences smoothly, showing his
white teeth in a slight smile. This was the most plausible reason his
brain had been able to lay hold of to explain his coming. And come he
must, for he had a terrifying dread that Tom knew the facts he was
trying to keep from the public. It had taxed his ingenuity frightfully
that morning to make an explanation to his wife that would clear
himself. If Tom did know, and were to speak--there would be public
disgrace, and no explaining to his wife.
Tom's control came back to him, and he was filled with a sudden exultant
sense of mastery over this keen, powerful man. "It is of course
desirable that we settle the strike as soon as possible," he agreed
calmly, not revealing that he recognized Mr. Baxter's explanation to be
a fraud.
"It certainly will be a relief to us to deal with a man of integrity. I
think we have both had not very agreeable experiences with one whose
strong point was not his honor."
"Yes."
There was that in Mr. Baxter's manner which was very near frank
cordiality. "Has it not occurred to you as somewhat remarkable, Mr.
Keating, that both of us, acting independently, have been working to
expose Mr. Foley?"
Tom had never had the patience necessary to beat long about the bush. He
was master, and he swept Mr. Baxter's method aside. "The sad feature of
both our efforts," he said calmly, but with fierce joy, "has been that
we have failed, so far, to expose the chief villain."
The corners of Mr. Baxter's mouth twitched the least trifle, but when he
spoke he showed the proper surprise. "Have we, indeed! Whom do you
mean?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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