"It is suggested that news spreads--if not of its own volatility, at least with only the most trifling assistance. And that, I take it," concluded Mr. Hurd, "will be supplied." Mr. Green's face grew almost purple. "Why!" he exclaimed, "that's--that's pretty close to blackmail!" The President's lips half concealed the merest trace of a smile. "Possibly," he assented. "But I am inclined to think it is business." The controversy continued. And Mr. Hurd, listening, found himself more and more moved to austere amusement by the effect of Charlie's suave proposal. When he had placed the matter before the directorate, it was because he himself had not made up his mind on the question of its desirability. He had slowly come to feel that his personal prejudice against carrying insurance should not be made forcibly to apply to the policy of a corporation, in which many others were interested, and he felt that he would prefer to shift the responsibility on this point to the gentlemen who presumably were paid for deciding just such things. And as he listened, he found growing upon him the hope that Charlie's plan would be adopted. This hope, unexpressed, was so utterly out of keeping with what he had supposed to be his convictions that he strangled it without a qualm. It was, he supposed, dead, when he sat up at the further request of Mr. Jonas Green to answer a few additional queries. "Tell me," said Mr. Green, "do you honestly believe there's a particle of danger of a big fire in this city? Pooh!" He dismissed the subject almost contemptuously. Some odd chord of recollection stirred in Mr. Hurd. Almost unconsciously he responded:-- "The best technical engineers--not alarmists, but men who are careful students of such things--agree that the conflagration hazard in the congested district of Boston is not a thing one can exactly calculate, but it would be difficult to overestimate its gravity." The sounding syllables passed from his lips with a faint, far echo which he found vaguely but unidentifiably familiar. But into the group around the long table the utterance fell with cryptic, crucial solemnity. Only Mr. Green, stubbornly contentious to the last, and thinking anxiously of both horns of the dilemma at once, found voice or will to reply. "You don't say so!" he said feebly. "I do," Mr. Hurd coolly rejoined. "And now, gentlemen, the motion is in order: Shall the Massachusetts Light, Heat, and Traction Company insure its properties against loss by fire?" And when the motion was put, there was no dissenting voice. Of this somewhat unprecedented meeting the close at least was normal. But Mr. Jonas Green grasped his ten dollar gold piece more firmly than ever as he passed through the doorway. CHAPTER VIII