My lawyers had sold me out; I, fool that I was, had not guarded the only
weak plate in my armor against my companions--the plate over my back, to
shed assassin thrusts. Roebuck and Langdon between them owned the governor;
he owned the Canal Commission; my canal, which gave me access to tide-water
for the product of my Manasquale mines, was as good as closed. I no longer
had the whip-hand in National Coal. The others could sell me out and take
two-thirds of my fortune, whenever they liked--for of what use were my
mines with no outlet now to any market, except the outlets the coal crowd
owned?
As soon as I had thought the situation out in all its bearings, I realized
that there was no escape for me now, that whatever chance to escape I might
have had was closed by my uncovering to Saxe and kicking him. But I did not
regret; it was worth the money it would cost me. Besides, I thought I saw
how I could later on turn it to good account. A sensible man never makes
fatal errors. Whatever he does is at least experience, and can also be used
to advantage. If Napoleon hadn't been half dead at Waterloo, I don't doubt
he would have used its disaster as a means to a greater victory.
Was I downcast by the discovery that those bandits had me apparently at
their mercy? Not a bit.
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