Disturbed in his reflections, Senator Roberts looked up and saw
the extended hand of a red-faced, corpulent man, one of the
directors. He was no favourite with the senator, but the latter
was too keen a man of the world to make enemies uselessly, so he
condescended to place two fingers in the outstretched fat palm.

"How are you, Mr. Grimsby? Well, what are we going to do about
this injunction? The case has gone against us. I knew Judge
Rossmore's decision would be for the other side. Public opinion is
aroused. The press--"

Mr. Grimsby's red face grew more apoplectic as he blurted out:

"Public opinion and the press be d----d. Who cares for public
opinion? What is public opinion, anyhow? This road can manage its
own affairs or it can't. If it can't I for one quit railroading.
The press! Pshaw! It's all graft, I tell you. It's nothing but a
strike! I never knew one of these virtuous outbursts that wasn't.
First the newspapers bark ferociously to advertise themselves;
then they crawl round and whine like a cur. And it usually costs
something to fix matters."

The senator smiled grimly.

"No, no, Grimsby--not this time. It's more serious than that.
Hitherto the road has been unusually lucky in its bench
decisions--"

The senator gave a covert glance round to see if any long ears
were listening. Then he added: