the sun. He grinned at Hubble, who didn’t seem to think it was at all funny.
“Coming in with us?” Mundin asked.
Hubble scowled.
The chairman passed on to the matter of compensation of officers. Mundin gathered from the reading of a long, involved statement of capital gains and tax depreciation that the corporation officers didn’t think they were making enough money. They wanted more.
During the reading stockholders chattered sociably. Mundin began to wonder why they had bothered to come, as the pay-raise was lackadaisically approved by a unanimous voice vote.
At the next order of business he found out why.
It was called “Diversification of Raw Material Sources, with Special Reference to Alumina and Silicates.” Mundin couldn’t make head or tail of the dull technicalities, but he noticed that the sociable conversations tapered to a halt. One group, not more than four or five men, were putting their heads together with much figuring on the backs of envelopes and checking of records. Secretaries were running in and out with books and sheaves of documents as the reading droned on.
At last, the chairman said genially, “Well, gentlemen, the question. Shall we save tune by asking for a unanimous vote of ‘Aye?'”
A thin, gray old man rose and said: “I call for a record vote.” He looked daggers at an elaborately unconcerned man in the first row and quavered menacingly, “And let me say to you gentlemen that I’m going to keep a copy of the record. And I will be guided by it in reaching future decisions, particularly during the last week of the coming quarter. I trust I have made myself entirely clear.”
The chairman harumphed and the record vote was taken.
The proposition was defeated by a narrow margin, in an atmosphere of restrained passions. Mundin sensed dimly that there had just been a pitched battle—a corporate Gettysburg, a trial of strength between two mighty groups, with millions a year as the least part of the stakes. Beyond that he couldn’t see.
Hubble, beside him, was growing restless. Mundin leaned over and whispered, “You could hold the balance of power
in a matter like that if you came in with us.”
“I know,” Hubble said. “I know.” And then, after a long while, “Let me see that paper again.”
That was how Mundin knew he had him.
The meeting continued.
There were three other clashes—Union Representation; Petition for Lowered Haulage Rates; and Committee to Study Design Improvements. Between votes Hubble read the spots off the power of attorney and fished for information. Mundin was noncommittal. “Yes, they’re clients of mine. No, sorry, can’t tell you just where Mr. Lavin is staying at present, I’m afraid. Yes, there is a sister. Mr. Arnold up there can probably give you more information than I.”
“Arnold is in it?”
“Up to his eye-teeth. Arnold will probably attempt before long to—why, here it comes now!”
One of the colorless secretaries was reading, just above a mumble: “Proposal to rectify an anomalous distribution of voting stock. Proposal is to empower board to acquire at par dormant stock, dormant to mean stock unvoted since issue, provided time in question be not less than ten years, stock to be deposited in company treasury.” It sailed through the air of the room without raising a ripple.
Muadin whispered, “Ask nim how much stock is involved. That’ll be your answer.”
Hubble hesitated, then firmly swallowed the hook. He rose, looking1 grim, and put the question.
Arnold smiled. “I’m afraid we haven’t got the exact figures. It’s more of a contingency measure, Mr. Hubble.”
Hubble said, “I’d be satisfied with an estimate, Mr. Arnold.”
“No doubt. But as I said, we haven’t got the figures. Now to proceed——-”
Hubble began to look mulish. “Is the amount by any chance twenty-five per cent?” Throughout the room people sat up and conversations broke off short.
Arnold tried to laugh. Hubble snapped: “I repeat my question. Is or is not the amount of stock which you are asking us to empower you to buy and deposit in the company treasury, under your control, twenty-five per cent?”
As it soaked in there was a mild uproar. Hubble ignored it. “Is it or is it not, Mr. Arnold?” he demanded. “A very simple