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In the mansion that he built at Arden, there were a hundred telephones, sixty of them linked to the long-distance lines. What the brush is to the artist, what the chisel is to the sculptor, the telephone was to Harriman. He built his fortune with it. It was in his library, his bathroom, his private car, his camp in the Oregon wilder-ness.
Harriman in August, 1906, therefore purchased nearly all the Pennsylvania holdings in the old Garrett property and thus obtained virtual control. At this same time the Baltimore and Ohio had been developing a "community of interest" plan on its own account.
Furthermore, it was at this same period that the Church sold the street railway of Salt Lake City and its electric power company to the "Harriman interests" under peculiar circumstances a matter of which I have written in an earlier chapter.
To the city editor she abruptly said: "I want to find the man who wrote this article on 'Black Mose. I want to find the hotel where he is." The editor was enormously interested at once. "Harriman is on the night force and at home how, but I'll see what I can do."
This move meant but one thing to Harriman: the Hill-Morgan interests were trying to surround the Union Pacific and make it powerless, just as the Southern Pacific had attempted to do many years before. Harriman now played one of his bold strokes. He immediately began to purchase Northern Pacific stock in the open market in order to secure control of that property.
She had long ago discovered that Miss Phyllis did not always regulate her actions by her words. "Take him into the red room and tell him I'll be down in a minute," Miss Harriman decided. After which there was swift action in the lady's boudoir.
He dictated some letters, closed his desk, and went down the street toward the City Club. At a florist's he stopped and ordered a box of American Beauties to be sent to Miss Phyllis Harriman. With these he enclosed his card, a line of greeting scrawled on it. A poker game was on at the club and Cunningham sat in. He interrupted it to dine, holding his seat by leaving a pile of chips at the place.
But you want to remember that I wasn't askin' about what she knew with any idea of makin' it public or tellin' the police. I meant to keep it under my own hat to help run down a cold-blooded murderer." "You can't want to run him down any more than we do and in that 'we' I include Jack and Miss Harriman as well as myself," the older man answered gravely. "But I'm sure you're entirely wrong.
I sit at the door of my state room writing this and looking out upon the blue sparkling sea water and the snow capped and spruce mantled mountain ranges. Muir has just passed by, then Mr. Harriman racing with his children. I like him. He is a small man, about the size of Ingersoll and the same age, brown hair and moustache and round strong head.
But it seems we were mistaken. He married Phyllis Harriman, the young woman to whom he was engaged." Mrs. Rankin smiled, the placid, motherly smile of experience. "I've noticed that men sometimes do marry the girls to whom they are engaged." "Yes, but " Kirby broke off and tried another tack. "How old was the lady? And was she dark or fair?" "Miss Harriman? I should think she may be twenty-five.
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