“This exposé,” as one paper expressed it, “in no way affects the merits of the case. Indeed, it rather indicates that, without a bribe, the special delegate would have reported in Bassett’s favour. While the courage of the P. & O. in undertaking to expose the scoundrel cannot but be commended, the public should not permit this grand-stand play, as it were, to obscure the main issue. Whether the road was wrong, or whether Bassett was wrong, is a question whose solution we must await with an open mind.” The labour papers were much more outspoken. While all of them rejoiced ostentatiously in the detection and punishment of Nixon, they also took care to add that the fact that the railroad had to bribe Nixon in order to get a favourable report from him proved beyond a doubt that its case was a bad one. “This entire occurrence,” one of them continued, and not the most rabid by any means, “moves us to inquire on how many occasions have the railroads used bribery in order to accomplish their ends? No one can doubt that the use of money for this purpose is habitual with them, and we should not forget that the bribe-giver is as guilty as the bribe-taker. No bribe is ever given to accomplish an honest purpose, and the great corporations, which know so well how to take advantage of the weaknesses of poor human nature, are more to be despised and abhorred than the pitiable victims whom they have tempted to their ruin.” It was in Mr. Round’s office at Cincinnati that Mr. Schofield was shown this utterance, and the general manager watched him as he read it, a cynical smile upon his lips. “You see what’s coming, don’t you?” he inquired, when Mr. Schofield looked up. “What _is_ coming?” “A strike—and public sympathy is going to be on the other side.” “You think so?” “I know so. I’m afraid we made a mistake, Schofield, in peaching on Nixon.” “Do you know,” said the superintendent, “I felt a sort of presentiment of that sort when I started in to give him away. I came mighty near not doing it.” “I wish you hadn’t. Why didn’t you heed the presentiment?” “Well,” answered Mr. Schofield, slowly, “in the first place, we had mapped out the plan to follow, and I didn’t quite feel like discarding it on my own motion. And in the second place—well—I’m almost ashamed to tell you—just as I shut my mouth and got ready to sit down, I remembered young West’s face as it looked when I spoke of bribery to him. Somehow, I just had to go on.” “It was scarcely the time to heed a young idealist,” said Mr. Round, dryly. “But I’m not blaming you—the mistake was mine, and I take the responsibility for it. I flattered myself that I adopted the course I did from purely utilitarian motives, but I’m inclined to suspect that West’s enthusiasm had something to do with my decision. You can’t mix railroading and impractical idealism, Ed.; the railroading will suffer every time.” “Yes,” agreed Mr. Schofield, “I’m afraid it will. It certainly has this time.”