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Updated: June 22, 2025
Wintermuth, silent and noncommittal, had returned to the office, but took little part in the conduct of his company's underwriting affairs. And in this manner March wore itself almost out and it seemed as though the Guardian's span of life were growing rapidly shorter. On the last day of the month there was a meeting of the directors in the closed room off the President's own.
Wintermuth will say that I needn't remain the customary thirty days; I fancy he'll let me out at once." A smile, none too pleasant, crossed the lips of the Guardian official. Business was business, of course, and a man was entitled to use his personal influence to advance himself; but he scarcely relished the idea of practically looting the company for which he had worked for a good many years.
"Why, that's substantially all, to date," returned the New Yorker, dishonestly; "except that I've been sent up here to see what I can do to improve our position in Boston." "Ah! Who sent you? Who is in charge of the Guardian now?" continued Miss Maitland, calmly. "Mr. Wintermuth, of course," replied her victim. "And under Mr. Wintermuth? Has no one been elected to fill Mr. Gunterson's place?"
"The greatest trouble with the old man is," as Cuyler was heard to say on one occasion, "he has the 4 per cent bond habit." It was perfectly, true. What was safe and what was sure appealed more strongly to James Wintermuth with the passage of every year.
Wintermuth. "But what do you expect Mr. Ferguson to do?" "Oh, I haven't any idea," said his subordinate, with a smile.
James Wintermuth had just finished a luncheon of such unusual proportions that evidently it had attracted the respectful attention of the Down Town Association's waiter who usually served him, and who of late had grown almost to despair of being able ever again to bring his client anything more substantial than a half portion of crab-flake salad.
Wintermuth had been a good friend to O'Connor; still, a man must needs look first after his own interest; no one was apt to butter his bread for him. Sophistry old as the world. Nevertheless, when morning dawned, the travail of the night had left no mark on Mr. O'Connor's brow.
"Now I'll go and see the chief and ease his mind and also find out what terms he is willing to make with Scheidle." Mr. Wintermuth proved to be no stickler for terms; his anxiety to replace the lost treaty was too great. And Mr. Scheidle, after analyzing and studying the results of the business which the Guardian had ceded to the Karlsruhe, made a very fair offer.
Osgood, the Salamander has never gotten the premium income it should get from Boston, and worse than that, it has always lost money. Now you've got a place for us in your office, and it's the Guardian's place. No hold on a minute let me finish. I know that Mr. Wintermuth is an old friend of yours, but Mr. Wintermuth is about finished with the fire insurance business.
"Sheet one fifty-six," he said shortly. "No one fifty-six. That will do." He turned to a boy. "Find out for me if Mr. Wintermuth is in his office." The boy, whose name was Jimmy, sped off, soliloquizing as he went: "Gee, there must be somethin' up to get O'C. as hot as that!" Arrived at the opposite end of the big room, he reconnoitered for a view of the President's office.
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