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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Can you come out and look at the map a minute, sir?" he asked respectfully. "Certainly. What is it? A loss?" replied Mr. Wintermuth, noticing the telegraph slip as he rose from his chair and followed O'Connor toward the map counter. "Yes," said the Vice-president. He was passing the desk of the General Agent, and he took care that his remark might be overheard.
President Wintermuth himself had once been considerably younger, and he knew it. He called all his old employees by their first names, and unless there rose a question of fidelity, he would no sooner have thought of discharging one of them than he would have thought of going home and discharging his wife. Some of the older ones, indeed, antedated Mr.
"O'Connor says," he added, with legitimate malice, "that if you imagine you have a grievance and will come to the office of the Salamander, he will graciously consent to give you a hearing." Mr. Wintermuth looked up, and a flash of his pristine shrewdness gleamed in his eye. "You're saying that putting it that way to get me into a controversy with the Salamander people, Richard," he said.
"Yes," admitted Smith, honestly; "but I wouldn't do it if I didn't believe that eventually we'll have to fight that man on his own ground, and beat him, too, before he'll leave us alone to conduct our business." "Perhaps that is so." "Then you'll let me close in on him when it becomes necessary?" the other persisted. "Possibly," said Mr. Wintermuth, cautiously; and more he would not say.
"Thirty-five is the minimum age for the President of the United States," suggested Mr. Wintermuth, detachedly. "Well, thirty-five is quite young enough," retorted Mr. Whitehill. "Give the boy a few years' time. I say, hire an underwriter outside." The President turned to face the table.
Helen said, a little incoherently; but the point was plain. "On the business side there is only one feature that cheers me," continued Mr. Osgood, "and that is the fact that my old friend James Wintermuth and his company, the Guardian of New York, are practically out of it all." "How do you mean out of it?" Helen's mother asked.
"He means they're paying him excess brokerage or something of that sort," said Mr. Wintermuth, acidly. "Yes, I suppose so, but of course that's a thing you can't say unless you're in a position to prove it. Anyhow, he's gone and about twenty thousand dollars worth of preferred business with a thirty per cent loss ratio for ten years has gone with him."
"I would not myself suggest special commission deals at these places. Of course I agree with you that we should always respect our pledges. But at the same time it struck me that " "I don't want to hear what struck you," retorted Mr. Wintermuth, with unwonted asperity. "Let me see the proofs I will take the necessary action. Is that what you have there those papers?" "One or two of them, sir.
How are they doing it? And where?" "Mr. Wintermuth, I am absolutely convinced that three Conference companies in the Nolan agency, who represent us at Syracuse, are paying at least ten per cent excess commission on preferred business without going through the formality of demanding even a receipt for it.
I fancy I managed to stiffen up the backbone of Crowell, who's a first-class field man, and I'm going to circularize the local agents, telling them the facts." Mr. Wintermuth looked at Smith thoughtfully. "All right, Richard; go ahead," he said. "I am quite content to leave it in your hands." "Now for New York," pursued Smith, inclining his head in acknowledgment of his superior's commendation.
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