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Updated: June 16, 2025
These articles are to be paralleled by the similar articles in the Populist and Socialist papers when two years ago I had at dinner at one time Pierpont Morgan, and at another time J. J. Hill, and at another, Harriman, and at another time Schiff.
Was that generous? Was it even fair?" The cattleman stood convicted at the bar of his own judgment. His cousins had been magnanimous to Esther and Rose, more so than he had been to Miss Harriman. Yet, even while he confessed fault, he felt uneasily that there was a justification he could not quite lay hold of and put into words. "I'm sorry you feel that way, James. Perhaps I was wrong.
It's you that is likely to be there," Jack tossed out petulantly. Phyllis Harriman had flung herself down to sob with her head in the pillows. But Kirby noticed that one small pink ear was in the open to take in the swift sentences passing between the men. "I'm intendin' to make it my business," Lane said, his voice ominously quiet. "You're laying up trouble for yourself," Jack warned blackly.
"What's the trouble between you about?" asked James. "I've found out that he an' Miss Harriman were in Uncle James's rooms the night he was killed. I want them to come through an' tell what they know." "How did you find that out?" The eyes of the oil broker were hard as jade. They looked straight into those of his cousin. "I can't tell you that exactly. Put two an' two together."
Her luxuriant, blue-black hair had been dressed and she was debating the important question as to what gown she would wear. The business of her life was to make an effective carnal appeal, and she had a very sure sense of how to accomplish this. A maid entered with a card, at which Miss Harriman glanced indolently.
And it is beautifully worked out. But I know our people, here and in New York. They will simply give you the cold stare and say that you are crazy." "Because it can't be financed?" "Because it doesn't come from Hill or Harriman or Morgan, or some other one of the big captains. You'll never be able to stand it upon its feet by your single-handed lonesome."
An automobile, new and of an expensive make, was standing by the curb. Just as Kirby and Rose reached the machine a young man ran down the steps of the court-house and stepped into the car. The man was Jack Cunningham. He took the driver's seat. Beside him was a veiled young woman in a leather motoring-coat. In spite of the veil Lane recognized her as Phyllis Harriman.
Just as deceptive as plain fraud is the deceptive ballot. We all know how when the political tricksters were compelled to frame a direct primary law in New York they fixed the ballot so that it botched the election. Corporations have been known to do just that to their reports. Did not E. H. Harriman say of a well-known statistician that he could make an annual report tell any story you pleased?
At the same time that Harriman was strengthening his position on the west and south, the Great Northern and Northern Pacific properties, both now operated under the definite control of James J. Hill, were following a policy of expansion fully as gigantic as that of the Union Pacific.
He caught one glimpse of the driver and stood smiling at the door with his hat off. "I want to see you just a minute, Miss Harriman. May I come in?" Her long, dark eyes flashed at him. The first swift impulse was to refuse. But she knew he was dangerous. He knew much that it was vital to her social standing must not be published. She sparred for time. "What do you want?"
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