“There you have it,” he said.  “By and by they will find their first bond issue inadequate to meet the cost of the proposed improvements.  The estimates of the engineers will be found too low, and there will be another issue of bonds, and your president’s company will get another contract.  And then the first thing you know, your president will organise a manufacturing enterprise along the line of his road, and the road will give him secret rebates, and practically carry his goods free; or else he’ll organise a private-car line, and make the road pay for the privilege of hauling his cars.  Or perhaps he’s already got some industrial concern, and is simply building the road as a side issue.”

The Major stopped.  He saw that Montague was staring at him with an expression of perplexity.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Good heavens, Major!” exclaimed the other.  “Do you know what road I’ve been talking about?”

And the Major sank back in his chair and went into a fit of laughter.  He laughed until he was purple in the face, and he could hardly find breath to speak.

“I really thought you did!” Montague protested.  “It’s exactly the situation.”

“Oh, dear me!” said the Major, fishing for his pocket handkerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes.  “Dear me!  It makes me think of our district attorney’s lemon story.  Did you ever hear it?”

“No,” said Montague, “I never did.”

“It was one of the bright spots in a dreary reform campaign that we had a few years ago.  It seems that our young crusader was giving his audience a few illustrations of how dishonest officials could make money in this city.

“‘Let us imagine a case,’ he said.  ’You are an inspector of fruit, and there is a scarcity of lemons in New York.  There are two ships full of lemons on the way, and one ship gets in twenty-four hours ahead.  Now the law requires that the fruit be carefully inspected.  If you are too careful about it, it will take more than twenty-four hours, and the owner of the cargo will lose a small fortune.  So he comes to you and offers you a thousand or two, and you don’t stop to open every crate of his lemons.’

“The district attorney told that story at a meeting, and the next morning the newspapers published it.  That afternoon he happened to meet a fruit inspector, who was an old friend of his.  ’Say, old man,’ said the inspector, ’who the devil told you about those lemons?’”

The next morning Montague called at Price’s office.

“Mr. Price,” he said, “a matter has come up in my discussions with Mr. Haskins about which I thought it necessary to consult you immediately.”

“What is it?” asked Price.

“Mr. Haskins informs me that it is understood that the Hill Manufacturing Company is to be favoured in the matter of contracts.”

Montague was watching Price narrowly, and he saw his jaw set grimly, and a hostile look come upon his features.  Price had been lounging back in his chair; now, slowly, he straightened himself up, as if to receive an attack.