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Updated: May 10, 2025
Up at the Trust's headquarters Willis Marsh was in a fine fury. As far as possible, his subordinates avoided him. His superintendents, summoned from their work, emerged from the red-painted office on the hill with dampened brows and frightened glances over their shoulders.
The farmer receives a certain number of bushels of 'seed' wheat from the factor, agreeing to repay him with two or two and a half bushels of the coming crop; a large percentage of the remainder of the crop is pledged to the local store-keeper for the goods that the farmer must have to do his work and to live upon. "Wheat is the medium of exchange. The Trust's price is the measure of value. Why?
Or of the individual oil refineries which mysteriously disappeared in fire and smoke at a time when they became annoying to the Combination Oil Trust? Or of the Traction Trust's two plots to murder Prosecutor Henry in San Francisco? I'm just mentioning a few cases from memory. Why, when a criminal trust faces only loss it will commit forgery, theft or arson.
I was offered a number of propositions, but Mr. Hilliard was so insistent and made such substantial inducements that I finally placed the business with him." The animosity that glimmered for one fleeting instant in Marsh's eyes amused Boyd greatly, advertising as it did, that for once the Trust's executive felt himself at a disadvantage.
And he knew that Heeney had grubbed and eaten and burrowed his way, like a woodchuck, to the very heart of the First National Trust's wealth. It was only then that the stupendousness of the whole thing came home to Trotter. It was only then that he realized the almost superhuman cunning and pertinacity in this guileless-eyed cellar plotter called Heeney.
On my holdings a well was located which yielded three hundred barrels of oil a day. "No sooner had I begun to operate my well than the agents of the Oil Trust, which had then but recently sprung into existence as a menace to individual refining, came to me with a proposition to incorporate my well in the Trust's system.
We quite easily and naturally and confidently guess that they are in all cases objects which will return five hundred per cent. on the Trust's investment in them, but guessing is not knowledge; it is merely, in this case, a sort of nine-tenths certainty deducible from what we think we know of the Trust's trade principles and its sly and furtive and shifty ways. Sly? Deep? Judicious?
So Sunny Oak found things when he slouched up to the hut with the result of the Trust's overnight meeting in his pocket. The loafer came in with a grin of good-nature on his perspiring and dirty face. He was feeling very self-righteous. It was pleasant to think he was doing a good work. So much so that the effort of doing it did not draw the usual protest from him.
If the Trust's stock of lines were to be placed end to end it would reach part of the way to London. "You pay the threepence. We do the rest." Then a blank space, after which came a few "unsolicited testimonials": "Lower Fifth" writes: "I was set two hundred lines of Virgil on Saturday last at one o'clock.
The uproar over the Textile Trust had become so great that the national Department of Commerce dared not refuse an investigation; and I straightway began to spread out in my daily letters the facts of the Trust's enormous earnings and of the shameful sources of those earnings.
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