Montague thought for a moment.  “I don’t believe that I have much influence with the Legislature,” he began.

“That’s all right,” said Price, grimly.  “We’ll furnish the influence.”

Here spoke Davenant.  “It seems to me,” he said, “that we can just as well arrange this matter without mentioning the Northern Mississippi Railroad at all.  If the Steel people get wind of this, we are liable to have all sorts of trouble; the Governor is their man, as you know.  The thing to do is to pass a blanket bill, providing that any public-service corporation whose charter antedates a certain period may extend its line within certain limits and under certain conditions, and so on.  I think that I can draw a bill that will go through before anybody has an idea what it’s about.”

“Very good,” said Price.  “Do it that way.”

And so they went, from point to point.  Price laid down Montague’s own course of procedure in a few brief sentences.  They had just two weeks before the stockholders’ meeting, and it was arranged that he should start for Mississippi upon the following day.

When the conference was over, Montague rode up town with Harry Curtiss.

“What was that Davenant said about the Governor?” he asked, when they were seated in the train.

“Governor Hannis, you mean?” said the other.  “I don’t know so very much about it, but there’s been some agitation down there against the railroads, and Waterman and the Steel crowd put in Governor Hannis to do nothing.”

“It was rather staggering to me,” said Montague, after a little thought.  “I didn’t say anything about it, but you know Governor Hannis is an old friend of my father’s, and one of the finest men I ever knew.”

“Oh, yes, I don’t doubt that,” said Curtiss, easily.  “They put up these fine, respectable old gentlemen.  Of course, he’s simply a figure-head—­he probably has no idea of what he’s really doing.  You understand, of course, that Senator Harmon is the real boss of your State.”

“I have heard it said,” said Montague.  “But I never took much stock in such statements—­”

“Humph!” said Curtiss.  “You’d take it if you’d been in my boots.  I used to do business for old Waterman’s Southern railroads, and I’ve had occasion to take messages to Harmon once or twice.  New York is the place where you find out about this game!”

“It’s not a very pleasant game,” said Montague, soberly.

“I didn’t make the rules,” said Curtiss.  “You find you either have to play that way or else get out altogether.”

The younger man relapsed into silence for a moment, then laughed to himself.  “I know how you feel,” he said.  “I remember when I first came out of college, the twinges I used to have.  I had my head full of all the beautiful maxims of the old Professor of Ethics.  And they took me on in the legal department of the New York and Hudson Railroad, and we had a case—–­some kind of a damage suit; and old Henry Corbin—­their chief counsel, you know—­gave me the papers, and then took out of his desk a typewritten list of the judges of the Supreme Court of the State.  ‘Some of them are marked with red,’ he said; ’you can bring the case before any of them.  They are our judges.’  Just fancy, you know!  And I as innocent as a spring chicken!”