"
They pored over them a half hour. Then Easterly arose.
"There's something in it," he admitted, "but what can we do? What do you
propose?"
"Monopolize the growth as well as the manufacture of cotton, and use
the first to club European manufacturers into submission."
Easterly stared at him.
"Good Lord!" he ejaculated; "you're crazy!"
But Taylor smiled a slow, thin smile, and put away his papers. Easterly
continued to stare at his subordinate with a sort of fascination, with
the awe that one feels when genius unexpectedly reveals itself from a
source hitherto regarded as entirely ordinary. At last he drew a long
breath, remarking indefinitely:
"I'll think it over."
A stir in the parlor indicated departure.
"Well, you watch the Farmers' League, and note its success and methods,"
counselled John Taylor, his tone and manner unchanged. "Then figure what
it might do in the hands of--let us say, friends."
"Who's running it?"
"A Colonel Cresswell is its head, and happens also to be the force
behind it. Aristocratic family--big planter--near where my sister
teaches."
"H'm--well, we'll watch _him_."
"And say," as Easterly was turning away, "you know Congressman Smith?"
"I should say I did."
"Well, Mrs. Grey seems to be depending on him for advice in distributing
some of her charity funds.
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