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 control was under the thumb of Jason Weems at the other end of the table.

George bent low and held a whispered consultation with John Williams on his right, but John dashed his hopes. "Mainly it's the 15,000 Templeton transferred on the books to Ellery Anderson, Trustee. The dope I get is that Ellery Anderson, Trustee, is a little brother to Jason Weems, Trustee. Ellery is Jason's ace in the hole. Ellery lays off, and Jason votes a majority of the shares represented without entirely tipping his hand."

George saw in this but another manifestation of that inclination to trickery, to dark and evil and mysterious methods by which he had been beaten. It confirmed his fears. "Well, he doesn't need to tip it," he said hollowly. "I guess we're done."

"It looks that way," admitted John.

The committee on proxies was performing its duties. It would report presently.

Then the annual report would be read. Then the chair would announce, "Nominations are in order for the election of officers of the Judson-Morris Motor Company for the ensuing year."

Then this tall person, with a reddish cast of countenance and a face like a cross between a fox and a wolf, would slip a list of names to John Williams. That would be the names of the new board of directors, an entirely new