"I didn't know. I was only guessing."
"Know, not know," the producer said, chewing on his dead cigar. "You should have told me, anyway."
"What good would it have done?" David asked.
"I couldn't have proved it and even if I had, you didn't have the money to fight him."
Norman took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at it glumly. With an angry gesture, he threw it on the rug.
"What did I ever do to him he should want to ruin me?" he asked angrily. David didn't answer. "Nothing! That's what I did.
Only made money for him.
More money that he should use to cut my throat with!" Bernie took a fresh cigar from his pocket and waved it in front of David's face. "That should be a lesson to you.
Never do a favor for anybody, never make money for anybody, only yourself.
Otherwise, you'll find a knife in your back made of your own silver!"
David looked at his uncle's angry purple face, remembering the scene that had taken place at the stockholders' meeting.
Norman had gone into it, feeling more confident than he had at any time during the past few months.
The percentage of proxies that had been returned was about what they got every year.
Only about twenty-five per cent of the stockholders ever bothered to send in their proxy forms.
All they were interested in was when they'd begin receiving dividends again.
But those proxies, plus the eight per cent of stock that Norman had in his own name, gave him a comfortable thirty-three per cent of the stock to vote.
The attendance at the meeting was the same as usual. A few retired businessmen and some women who wandered in off the street because they owned ten shares and it gave them something to do; those directors of the company who happened to be in town and the company officers from the New York office.
It was only after the formalities of the meeting were over and Norman was asking for nominations for the board of directors that he sensed there was something wrong.
As he was speaking, Dan Pierce, the agent, and another man, whose face was familiar but whose name Norman couldn't remember, came into the room and sat down in the front row of the small auditorium.
A vice-president in charge of sales dutifully read off Norman's approved list of nominations for directorships. Another vice-president, in charge of theater operations, dutifully seconded the nominations. A third vice-president, in charge of foreign operations, then dutifully moved that the nominations be closed.
At that moment, Pierce got to his feet.
"Mr. President," he said, "I have several more nominations to make for directors of the corporation."
"You got no right," Norman yelled from the podium.
"According to the bylaws of the company," Dan Pierce retorted, "any stockholder of record may nominate as many persons for directors as there are directors in the corporation!"
Norman turned to his vice-president and general counsel.
"Is that true?" The attorney nervously nodded. "You're fired, you dumb bastard, you!" Norman whispered. He turned back to Pierce. "It's illegal!" he shouted. "A trick to upset the company."
The man seated alongside Pierce got to his feet.
"Mr. Pierce's nominations are perfectly in order and I, personally, can attest to his legal right to make them."
It was then that Norman remembered the name – McAllister – Jonas Cord's attorney.
He calmed down immediately.
"I suppose you can prove you're stockholders?" he asked cannily.
McAllister smiled. "Of course."
"Let me see your proof.
I got a right to demand that!"
"Of course you have," McAllister said. He walked up to the podium and handed up a stock certificate.
Norman looked down at it.
It was a stock certificate for ten shares properly issued in the name of Daniel Pierce,
"Is this all the stock you got?" he asked innocently.
McAllister smiled again.
"It's all the proof I need," he said, evading the producer's attempt to find out just how much stock he represented. "May I proceed with the nominations?"
Norman nodded silently and Pierce got to his feet and presented six names for the nine-man board.
Just enough to assure clear-cut control.
Outside of his own and McAllister's, all the names were strange to Norman.
When the votes were ready to be counted, McAllister presented to the meeting proxies representing forty-one per cent of the company – twenty-six per cent in the name of Jonas Cord and fifteen held by various brokerage houses.
All six of his nominees were elected.
Norman turned to his executives. He studied them silently for a moment, then withdrew six of his nominees, leaving only himself, David and the vice-president and treasurer on the board.
The meeting over, he called for a directors' meeting at the company offices that afternoon, for the election of officers.
Silently he started out of the room, his usually ruddy face pale and white.
Pierce stopped him at the door.
"Bernie," Pierce said, "I'd like a minute with you before the directors' meeting."