Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
The Lion and the Mouse
by
Charles Klein
A Story of an American Life
Novelized from the play by
Arthur Hornblow
"Judges and Senates have been bought for gold;
Love and esteem have never been sold."
POPE
CONTENTS
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
THE LION AND THE MOUSE
CHAPTER I
There was unwonted bustle in the usually sleepy and dignified New Yorkoffices of the Southern and Transcontinental Railroad Company in lowerBroadway. The supercilious, well-groomed clerks who, on ordinary days,are far too preoccupied with their own personal affairs to betray theslightest interest in anything not immediately concerning them, nowcondescended to bestir themselves and, gathered in little groups,conversed in subdued, eager tones. The slim, nervous fingers of half adozen haughty stenographers, representing as many different types ofbusiness femininity, were busily rattling the keys of clickingtypewriters, each of their owners intent on reducing with all possibledespatch the mass of letters which lay piled up in front of her.Through the heavy plate-glass swinging doors, leading to the elevatorsand thence to the street, came and went an army of messengers andtelegraph boys, noisy and insolent. Through the open windows the hoarseshouting of news-venders, the rushing of elevated trains, the clangingof street cars, with the occasional feverish dash of an ambulance—allthese familiar noises of a great city had the far-away sound peculiarto top floors of the modern sky-scraper. The day was warm and sticky,as is not uncommon in early May, and the overcast sky and a distantrumbling of thunder promised rain before night.
The big express elevators, running smoothly and swiftly, unloaded everyfew moments a number of prosperous-looking men who, chatting volublyand affably, made their way immediately through the outer officestowards another and larger inner office on the glass door of which wasthe legend "Directors Room. Private." Each comer gave a patronizing nodin recognition of the deferential salutation of the clerks. Earlierarrivals had preceded them, and as they opened the door there issuedfrom the Directors Room a confused murmur of voices, each different inpitch and tone, some deep and deliberate, others shrill and nervous,but all talking earnestly and with animation as men do when the subjectunder discussion is of common interest. Now and again a voice was heardhigh above the others, denoting anger in the speaker, followed by thepleading accents of the peace-maker, who was arguing his iratecolleague into calmness. At intervals the door opened to admit otherarrivals, and through the crack was caught a glimpse of a dozendirectors, some seated, some standing near a long table covered withgreen baize.
It was the regular quarterly meeting of the directors