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Essentials of Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach Third Edition Scandura
Essentials of
Organizational Behavior
Third Edition
To T. K.
For keeping it real.
Sara Miller McCune founded SAGE Publishing in 1965 to support
the dissemination of usable knowledge and educate a global
community. SAGE publishes more than 1000 journals and over
600 new books each year, spanning a wide range of subject areas.
Our growing selection of library products includes archives, data,
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founder and after her lifetime will become owned by a charitable
trust that secures the company’s continued independence.
Los Angeles | London | New Delhi | Singapore | Washington DC | Melbourne
Essentials of
Organizational
Behavior
An Evidence-Based Approach
Third Edition
Terri A. Scandura
University of Miami
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Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-5443-9678-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020915194
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
20 21 22 23 24 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
BRIEF CONTENTS
Preface xix
Acknowledgments xxxi
About the Author xxxvi
SECTION I • INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER 1 • What Is Organizational Behavior? 2
SECTION II • UNDERSTANDING INDIVIDUALS
IN ORGANIZATIONS 29
CHAPTER 2 • Personality and Person–Environment Fit 30
CHAPTER 3 • Emotions and Moods 52
CHAPTER 4 • Attitudes and Job Satisfaction 71
CHAPTER 5 • Perception, Decision-Making, and
Problem Solving 94
SECTION III • INFLUENCING AND
MOTIVATING EMPLOYEES 123
CHAPTER 6 • Leadership 124
CHAPTER 7 • Power and Politics 154
CHAPTER 8 • Motivation: Core Concepts 178
CHAPTER 9 • Motivation: Applications 205
SECTION IV • BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS 237
CHAPTER 10 • Group Processes and Teams 238
CHAPTER 11 • Managing Conflict and Negotiation 275
CHAPTER 12 • Organizational Communication 309
CHAPTER 13 • Diversity and Cross-Cultural Adjustments 337
SECTIONV • LEADERS AS CHANGE AGENTS 371
CHAPTER 14 • Organizational Culture 372
CHAPTER 15 • Leading Change and Stress Management 397
Appendix 1:The Scientific Method in Organizational Behavior 434
Appendix 2: Organizational Structure 439
Glossary 459
Notes 475
Author Index 551
Subject Index 557
DETAILED CONTENTS
Preface xix
Acknowledgments xxxi
About the Author xxxvi
SECTION I • INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER 1 • What Is Organizational Behavior? 2
Learning Objectives 2
A Crisis in Organizations? 2
What Is Going on With CEO Leadership? 3
What Is Organizational Behavior? 4
Disciplines Contributing to Organizational Behavior 5
From Theory to Practice 6
Evidence-Based Management 6
What Is Critical Thinking? 11
Applying Critical Thinking to Theories in Organizational
Behavior 13
Outcomes in Organizational Behavior 14
Performance 14
Attitudes 14
Employee Well-Being 16
Thriving 16
Motivation 16
Employee Withdrawal 17
Levels of Analysis in Organizational Behavior 17
How OB Research Increases Employee Performance 18
Plan for This Textbook 20
Leadership Implications: Thinking Critically 21
Key Terms 22
Toolkit Activity 1.1: Personal Leadership Development Plan 23
Toolkit Activity 1.2: Assessing Your Experiential Evidence Base 24
Case Study 1.1: Evidence-Based Management: People
Analytics at Google 26
SECTION II • UNDERSTANDING
INDIVIDUALS IN ORGANIZATIONS 29
CHAPTER 2 • Personality and Person–Environment Fit 30
Learning Objectives 30
The Personality Effect in Unicorns 30
What Is Personality? 31
Myers-Briggs Type Indicator 33
Limitations of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator 34
How the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator Is Used
in Organizations 34
The Big Five 35
Personality Traits and Health Research 37
Other Relevant Personality Traits 39
Machiavellianism 39
Self-Monitoring 41
Resilience 41
Risk-Taking 42
Psychological Capital 43
Person–Environment Fit 44
Person–Organization Fit 44
Person–Job Fit 45
Personality–Job Fit Theory 46
Leadership Implications: Understanding Others 47
Key Terms 49
Toolkit Activity 2.1: Fitting in Somewhere Great! 49
Case Study 2.1: Whom Would You Hire? 50
CHAPTER 3 • Emotions and Moods 52
Learning Objectives 52
Does Lack of Sleep Make You Grumpy? 52
Emotions and Moods at Work 53
Affective Events Theory 54
Moods56
Affective Climate 56
The Broaden-and-Build Model of Emotions 57
Emotional Labor 59
Acting at Work 60
Emotional Division of Labor 60
Emotional Intelligence 61
Can Emotional Intelligence Be Learned? 62
Limitations of Emotional Intelligence 62
How Emotional Intelligence Is Used in Organizations 62
Regulating Emotions 65
Emotional Contagion 65
Leadership Implications: Mindful Coaching 66
Key Terms 68
Toolkit Activity 3.1: The 5-Minute Gratitude Exercise 68
Case Study 3.1: Managing Your Boss’s Moods and Emotions 69
CHAPTER 4 • Attitudes and Job Satisfaction 71
Learning Objectives 71
Job Satisfaction: Trends and Causes 71
What Is an Attitude? 72
Components of an Attitude 72
Cognitive Dissonance 74
Do Attitudes Matter? 74
Job Satisfaction 75
Job Satisfaction Facets 77
Responses to Job Dissatisfaction 79
Job Search Attitudes 80
Organizational Commitment 82
Job Involvement 83
Employee Engagement 84
Perceived Organizational Support 86
Psychological Empowerment 87
Leadership Implications: Creating Meaning at Work 88
Key Terms 90
Toolkit Activity 4.1: What Do Workers Want From Their Jobs? 90
Case Study 4.1: Job Satisfaction in a Family-Owned Company 91
CHAPTER 5 • Perception, Decision-Making, and
Problem-Solving 94
Learning Objectives 94
Would You Be Happier if You Were Richer? 94
Understanding Why Perceptual Biases Exist 95
The Primacy Effect 96
The Recency Effect 96
The Availability Bias 97
Contrast Effects 99
Halo Error 100
Employability: Self-Fulfilling Prophecies During the
Application Process 101
Individual Decision-Making 102
Decision Processes and Organizational Performance 103
Why Some People Can’t Make Decisions 104
Constraints on Individual Decision-Making 104
The Rational Decision-Making Model 104
Limitations of the Rational Model 105
Bounded Rationality 105
Prospect Theory 106
The Importance of How Decisions Are Framed 107
Intuition 109
Benefits of Intuition 109
Wicked Organizational Problems 110
Decision Traps 113
Hindsight Bias 113
Overconfidence 113
Escalation of Commitment 114
Creative Problem-Solving 116
Going With the “Flow” 116
Three-Component Model of Creativity 117
Leadership Implications: Making Ethical Decisions 118
Key Terms 119
Toolkit Activity 5.1: The Oil Drilling Partnership 120
Case Study 5.1: Making Decisions Using Machine
Learning at Lufthansa 121
SECTION III • INFLUENCING AND
MOTIVATING EMPLOYEES 123
CHAPTER 6 • Leadership 124
Learning Objectives 124
Have Leaders Lost Their Followers’ Trust? 124
What Is Leadership? 125
Differentiating Management and Leadership 126
Managerial Leadership 126
The Trait Approach 128
Limitations of the Trait Approach 129
Leader Behaviors 130
Path–Goal Theory 130
Motivational Leadership Behaviors 130
Adapting to the Situation 131
Leader–Member Exchange 132
Inclusive Leadership 133
Leader–Member Exchange Development 135
Followership 135
Attributions and Leader–Member Relationships 136
The Mentor Connection 138
The Importance of Trust 138
Calculus-Based Trust 139
Knowledge-Based Trust 139
Identification-Based Trust 139
Repairing Broken Trust 141
Full-Range Leadership Development 142
Transactional Leadership 142
Transformational Leadership 144
Moral Approaches 144
Ethical Leadership 144
Servant and Authentic Leadership 145
Leadership Implications: Flexibility Matters 147
Key Terms 148
Toolkit Activity 6.1: Comparing Supervisor Leader-Member
Exchange 149
Toolkit Activity 6.2: Applying the Full-Range Leadership
Development Model 150
Case Study 6.1: Melissa Reiff: Servant Leader of the
Container Store 151
CHAPTER 7 • Power and Politics 154
Learning Objectives 154
What Is It Like to Have Power? 154
The Difference Between Power and Influence 155
Power156
Organizational Sources of Power 160
Influence Strategies 161
Which Influence Strategies Are the Most Effective? 161
Influence Without Authority 163
Impression Management 164
Perceptions of Organizational Politics 168
Political Skill 170
Having Both the Will and the Skill for Politics 171
Leadership Implications: Managing With Power 172
Key Terms 174
Toolkit Activity 7.1: Politics or Citizenship? 174
Toolkit Activity 7.2: What Would You Do? 176
Case Study 7.1: Can You Succeed Without Power? 176
CHAPTER 8 • Motivation: Core Concepts 178
Learning Objectives 178
Do You Have Grit? 178
What Is Motivation? 179
Needs Theories 180
Goal Setting 181
“SMART” Goals 181
Regulatory Goal Focus 183
The Role of Leaders in Goal Setting 183
Job Characteristics Theory 184
The Motivating Potential of Work 185
Designing Work to Be Motivational 186
Work Redesign and Job Stress 187
Job Crafting 187
The Importance of Fairness 189
Equity Theory 189
Organizational Justice: Expanding Fairness 190
Developing a Fair Reputation 193
Expectancy Theory 193
Expectancy Theory Predictions of Effort and Motivation 194
The Pygmalion Effect 195
The Galatea Effect 197
The Golem Effect 197
Leadership Implications: Who Will Lead? 198
Key Terms 200
Toolkit Activity 8.1: Future Me Letter 200
Toolkit Activity 8.2: SMART Goals Template 201
Case Study 8.1: Vision Boards at Lululemon 202
CHAPTER 9 • Motivation: Applications 205
Learning Objectives 205
The Meaning of Money 205
Reinforcement Theory 206
Reinforcers 207
Punishment 207
Schedules of Reinforcement 207
Organizational Behavior Modification 210
Social Learning Theory 212
The Modeling Process 213
Intrinsic Versus Extrinsic Rewards 213
Relationship Between Intrinsic and Extrinsic Rewards 214
Self-Determination Theory 216
What Money Can and Cannot Do 217
Pay Dispersion 217
Performance Management 219
Sources of Performance Management Ratings 219
Performance Management Methods 220
Problems With Performance Reviews 223
Other Forms of Compensation 224
Feedback Seeking 225
Leadership Implications: Motivating With Rewards 226
Key Terms 228
Toolkit Activity 9.1: Performance Appraisal Dos and Don’ts 228
Toolkit Activity 9.2: Performance Management Role-Play 230
Case Study 9.1: Increasing Motivation at Delta One Chennai 235
SECTION IV • BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS 237
CHAPTER 10 • Group Processes and Teams 238
Learning Objectives 238
Does Trust Impact Team Performance? 238
What Is a Team? 240
Work Group Versus Team 241
Team Purpose 241
Team Norms 242
The Team Charter 242
Team Mental Models 243
Team Development 244
Five-Stage Model 244
Team Performance Curve 245
Team Effectiveness 247
Team Metrics 248
Team Learning 249
Team Creativity and Innovation 250
Cohesion 251
Social Identity 253
Groupthink 253
Team Decision-Making 255
Participation in Team Decisions 255
Brainstorming 256
Consensus 257
Multivoting 259
Nominal Group Technique 260
Stepladder 261
Team Challenges 261
Social Loafing 261
Virtual Teams 262
Team Diversity 265
Challenges of Team Diversity 265
Benefits of Team Diversity 266
Leadership Implications: Empowering the Team 267
Key Terms 268
Toolkit Activity 10.1: The Team Charter 269
Toolkit Activity 10.2: The Marshmallow Challenge 271
Toolkit Activity 10.3: How to Run an Effective Meeting (Checklist) 272
Case Study 10.1: Problem-Solving in Virtual Teams 273
CHAPTER 11 • Managing Conflict and Negotiation 275
Learning Objectives 275
The Costs of Workplace Conflict 275
What Is Conflict? 277
Causes of Organizational Conflict 277
Is Conflict Always Bad? 280
Task Versus Relationship Conflict 281
Workplace Incivility and Aggression 283
Abusive Supervision 284
Toxic Workplaces 285
Workplace Violence 285
Conflict Resolution Styles 287
Team Conflict and Performance 291
Resolving Conflict Across Cultures 293
Third-Party Interventions 294
Negotiation 296
Distributive Bargaining 297
Integrative Bargaining 298
Emotions at the Bargaining Table 299
Cross-Cultural Negotiation 299
Union–Management Negotiations 300
Leadership Implications: Perspective Taking 301
Key Terms 302
Toolkit Activity 11.1: Checklist for Difficult Conversations 303
Toolkit Activity 11.2: Salary Negotiation 304
Toolkit Activity 11.3: Negotiation Style Assessment 306
Case Study 11.1: Perspective Taking: Health Versus Wealth
During the COVID-19 Pandemic 307
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
Tell it to the marines, remarked Trimmer, lighting a fresh cigar.
Just as well that the three shivering figures huddled in the launch on the
heaving bosom of the waters could not see this picture. Mr. Wall looked out
at the rain, and shivered himself.
Eleven-thirty came. And twelve. Two matches from Mr. Paddock's store
went to the discovery of these sad facts. Soaked to the skin, glum, silent, the
three on the waters sat staring at the unresponsive Lileth. The rain was
falling now in a fine drizzle.
I suppose, Paddock remarked, we stay here until morning?
We might try landing on Tarragona, said Minot.
We might try jumping into the ocean, too, responded Paddock, through
chattering teeth.
Murder, droned poor old George. That's what it'll be.
At one o'clock the three wet watchers beheld unusual things. Smoke
began to belch from the Lileth's funnels. Her siren sounded.
She's steaming out! cried Minot. She's steaming out to sea!
And sure enough, the graceful yacht began to move—out past Tarragona
Island—out toward the open sea.
Once more Paddock started his faithful engine, and, hallooing madly, the
three set out in pursuit. Not yet had the Lileth struck its gait, and in fifteen
minutes they were alongside. Martin Wall, beholding them from the deck,
had a rather unexpected attack of pity, and stopped his engines. The three
limp watchers were taken aboard.
Wha—what does this mean? chattered Minot.
You poor devils, said Martin Wall. Come and have a drink. Mean?
He poured. It means that the only way I could get rid of our friend
Trimmer was to set out for New York.
For New York? cried Minot, standing glass in hand.
Yes. Came on board, Trimmer did, searched the boat, and then declared
I'd shipped George away until his visit should be over. So he and his friends
—one of them the chief of police, by the way—sat down to wait for your
return. Gad—I thought of you out in that rain. Sat and sat and sat. What
could I do?
To Trimmer, the brute, said Paddock, raising his glass.
Finally I had an idea. I had the boys pull up anchor and start the
engines. Trimmer wanted to know the answer. 'Leaving for New York to-
night,' I said. 'Want to come along?' He wasn't sure whether he would go or
not, but his friends were sure they wouldn't. Put up an awful howl, and just
before we got under way Mr. Trimmer and party crawled into their rowboat
and splashed back to San Marco.
Well—what now? asked Minot.
I've made up my mind, said Wall. Been intending to go back north for
some time, and now that I've started, I guess I'll keep on going.
Splendid, cried Minot. And you'll take Mr. George Harrowby with
you?
Mr. Wall seemed in excellent spirits. He slapped Minot on the back.
If you say so, of course. Don't know exactly what they can do to us—
but I think George needs the sea air. How about it, your lordship?
Poor old George, drooping as he had never drooped before, looked
wearily into Wall's eyes.
What's the use? he said. Fight's all gone out of me. Losing interest in
what's next. Three hours on that blooming ocean with the rain soaking in—
I'm going to bed. I don't care what becomes of me.
And he sloshed away to his cabin.
Well, boys, I'm afraid we'll have to put you off, said Martin Wall.
Glad to have met both of you. Sometime in New York we may run into
each other again.
He shook hands genially, and the two young men dropped once more
into that unhappy launch. As they sped toward the shore the Lileth, behind
them, was heading for the open sea.
Sorry if I've seemed to have a grouch to-night, said Paddock, as they
walked up the deserted avenue toward the hotel. But these Florida rain-
storms aren't the pleasantest things to wear next to one's skin. I apologize,
Dick.
Nonsense, Minot answered. Old Job himself would have frowned a
bit if he'd been through what you have to-night. It was my fault for getting
you into it—
Forget it, Paddock said. Well, it looks like a wedding, old man. The
letters home again, and George Harrowby headed for New York—a three
days' trip. Nothing to hinder now. Have you thought of that?
I don't want to think, said Minot gloomily. Good night, old man.
Paddock sped up the stairs to his room, which was on the second floor,
and Minot turned toward the elevator. At that moment he saw approaching
him through the deserted lobby Mr. Jim O'Malley, the house detective of the
De la Pax.
Can we see you a minute in the office, Mr. Minot? he asked.
Certainly, Minot answered. But—I'm soaked through—was out in all
that rain—
Too bad, said O'Malley, with a sympathetic glance. We won't keep
you but a minute—
He led the way, and wondering, Minot followed. In the tiny office of the
hotel manager a bullet-headed man stood waiting.
My friend, Mr. Huntley, of the Secret Service, O'Malley explained.
Awful sorry that this should happen. Mr. Minot but—we got to search
you.
Search me—for what? Minot cried.
And in a flash, he knew. Through that wild night he had not once thought
of it. But it was still in his inside coat pocket, of course. Chain Lightning's
Collar!
What does this mean? he asked.
That's what they all say, grunted Huntley. Come here, my boy. Say,
you're pretty wet. And shivering! Better have a warm bath and a drink. Turn
around, please. Ah—
With practised fingers the detective explored rapidly Mr. Minot's person
and pockets. The victim of the search stood limp, helpless. What could he
do? There was no escape. It was all up now—for whatever reason they
desired Chain Lightning's Collar, they could not fail to have it in another
minute.
Side pockets—trousers pockets—now! The inner coat pocket! Its
contents were in the detective's hand. Minot stared down. A little gasp
escaped him.
The envelope that held Chain Lightning's Collar was not among them!
Two minutes longer Huntley pursued, then with an oath of
disappointment he turned to O'Malley.
Hasn't got it! he announced.
Minot swept aside the profuse apologies of the hotel detective, and
somehow got out of the room. In a daze, he sought 389. He didn't have it!
Didn't have Chain Lightning's Collar! Who did?
It was while he sat steaming in a hot bath that an idea came to him. The
struggle on the deck of the Lileth, with Martin Wall panting at his side! The
tug on his coat as they all went down together. The genial spirits of Wall
thereafter. The sudden start for New York.
No question about it—Chain Lightning's Collar was well out at sea now.
And yet—why had Wall stopped to take the occupants of the launch
aboard?
After his bath, Minot donned pajamas and a dressing-gown and ventured
out to find Lord Harrowby's suite. With difficulty he succeeded in arousing
the sleeping peer. Harrowby let him in, and then sat down on his bed and
stared at him.
What is it? he inquired sleepily.
Briefly Minot told him of the circumstances preceding the start of the
Lileth for New York, of his return to the hotel, and the search party he
encountered there. Harrowby was very wide awake by this time.
That finishes us, he groaned.
Wait a minute, Minot said. They didn't find the necklace. I didn't have
it. I'd lost it.
Lost it?
Yes. And if you want my opinion, I think Martin Wall stole it from me
on the Lileth and is now on his way—
Harrowby leaped from bed, and seized Minot gleefully by the hand.
Dear old chap. What the deuce do I care who took it. It's gone. Thank
God—it's gone.
But—I don't understand—
No. But you can understand this much. Everything's all right. Nothing
in the way of the wedding now. It's splendid! Splendid!
But—the necklace was stolen—
Yes. Good! Very good! My dear Minot, the luckiest thing that can
happen to us will be—never, never to see Chain Lightning's Collar again!
As completely at sea as he had been that night—which was more or less
at sea—Minot returned to his room. It was after three o'clock. He turned out
his lights and sought his bed. Many wild conjectures kept him awake at
first, but this had been the busiest day of his life. Soon he slept, and
dreamed thrilling dreams.
The sun was bright outside his windows when he was aroused by a
knock.
What is it? he cried.
A package for you, sir, said a bell-boy voice.
He slipped one arm outside his door to receive it—a neat little bundle,
securely tied, with his name written on the wrappings. Sleepily he undid the
cord, and took out—an envelope.
He was no longer sleepy. He held the envelope open over his bed. Chain
Lightning's Collar tumbled, gleaming, upon the white sheet!
Also in the package was a note, which Minot read breathlessly.
DEAR MR. MINOT:
I have decided not to go north after all, and am back in the harbor with
the Lileth. As I expect Trimmer at any moment I have sent George over to
Tarragona Island in charge of two sailormen for the day.
Cordially,
MARTIN WALL.
P.S. You dropped the enclosed in the scuffle on the boat last night.
CHAPTER XIV
JERSEY CITY INTERFERES
At ten o'clock that Saturday morning Lord Harrowby was engrossed in
the ceremony of breakfast in his rooms. For the occasion he wore an orange
and purple dressing-gown with a floral design no botanist could have
sanctioned—the sort of dressing-gown that Arnold Bennett, had he seen it,
would have made a leading character in a novel. He was cheerful, was
Harrowby, and as he glanced through an old copy of the London Times he
made strange noises in his throat, under the impression that he was
humming a musical comedy chorus.
There was a knock, and Harrowby cried: Come in. Mr. Minot, fresh as
the morning and nowhere near so hot, entered.
Feeling pretty satisfied with life, I'll wager, Minot suggested.
My dear chap, gay as—as—a robin, Harrowby replied.
Snatch your last giggle, said Minot. Have one final laugh, and make it
a good one. Then wake up.
Wake up? Why, I am awake—
Oh, no—you're dreaming on a bed of roses. Listen! Martin Wall didn't
go north with the impostor after all. Changed his mind. Look!
And Minot tossed something on the table, just abaft his lordship's eggs.
The devil! Chain Lightning's Collar! cried Harrowby.
Back to its original storage vault, said Minot. What is this,
Harrowby? A Drury Lane melodrama?
My word. I can't make it out.
Can't you? Got the necklace back this morning with a note from Martin
Wall, saying I dropped it last night in the scrap on the deck of the Lileth.
Confound the thing! sighed Harrowby, staring morosely at the
diamonds.
My first impulse, said Minot, is to hand the necklace back to you and
gracefully withdraw. But of course I'm here to look after Jephson's interests
—
Naturally, put in Harrowby quickly. And let me tell you that should
this necklace be found before the wedding, Jephson is practically certain to
pay that policy. I think you'd better keep it. They're not likely to search you
again. If I took it—dear old chap—they search me every little while.
You didn't steal this, did you? Minot asked.
Of course not. Harrowby flushed a delicate pink. It belongs in our
family—has for years. Everybody knows that.
Well, what is the trouble?
I'll explain it all later. There's really nothing dishonorable—as men of
the world look at such things. I give you my word that you can serve Mr.
Jephson best by keeping the necklace for the present—and seeing to it that
it does not fall into the hands of the men who are looking for it.
Minot sat staring gloomily ahead of him. Then he reached out, took up
the necklace, and restored it to his pocket.
Oh, very well, he said. If I'm sent to jail, tell Thacker I went singing
an epithalamium. He rose.
By the way, Harrowby remarked, I'm giving a little dinner to-night—
at the Manhattan Club. May I count on you?
Surely, Minot smiled. I'll be there, wearing our necklace.
My dear fellow—ah, I see you mean it pleasantly. Wear it, by all
means.
Minot passed from the eccentric blooms of that dressing-gown to the
more authentic flowers of the Florida outdoors. In the plaza he met Cynthia
Meyrick, rival candidate to the morning in its glory.
Matrimony, she said, is more trouble than it seems on a moonlit night
under the palms. I've never been so busy in my life. By the way, two of my
bridesmaids arrived from New York last night. Lovely girls—both of them.
But I forget!
Forget what?
Your young heart is already ensnared, isn't it?
Yes, replied Minot fervently. It is. But no matter. Tell me about your
preparations for the wedding. I should like to enjoy the thrill of it—by
proxy.
How like a man—wants all the thrill and none of the bother. It's
dreadfully hard staging a wedding, way down here a thousand miles from
everything. But—my gown came last night from Paris. Can you imagine the
thrill of that!
Only faintly.
How stupid being a man must be.
And how glorious being a girl, with man only an afterthought—even at
wedding time.
Poor Harrowby! He keeps in the lime-light fairly well, however. They
walked along a moment in silence. I've wondered, she said at length.
Why did you kidnap—Mr. Trimmer's—friend?
Because—
Yes?—eagerly.
Minot looked at her, and something rose in his throat to choke him.
I can't tell you, he said. It is the fault of—the Master of the Show. I'm
only the pawn—the baffled, raging, unhappy little pawn. That's all I can tell
you. You—you were speaking of your wedding gown?
A present from Aunt Mary, she answered, a strange tenderness in her
tone. For a good little girl who's caught a lord.
A charming little girl, said Minot softly. May I say that?
Yes— Her brown eyes glowed. I'm—glad—to have you—say it. I go
in here. Good-by—Mr. Kidnaper.
She disappeared into a shop, and Minot walked slowly down the street.
Girls from Peoria and Paris, from Boise City and London, passed by. Girls
chaperoned and girls alone—tourist girls in swarms. And not a few of them
wondered why such a good-looking young man should appear to be so
sorry for himself.
Returning to the hotel at noon, Minot met Martin Wall on the veranda.
Lucky I put old George on Tarragona for the day, Wall confided. As I
expected, Trimmer was out to call early this morning. Searched the ship
from stem to stern. I rather think we have Mr. Trimmer up a tree. He went
away not quite so sure of himself.
Good, Minot answered. So you changed your mind about going
north?
Yes. Think I'll stay over for the wedding. By the way, wasn't that Chain
Lightning's Collar you left behind you last night?
Y—yes.
Thought so. You ought to be more careful. People might suspect you of
being the thief at Mrs. Bruce's.
If you think that, I wish you'd speak to his lordship.
I have. Your innocence is established. And I've promised Harrowby to
keep his little mystery dark.
You're very kind, said Minot, and went on into the hotel.
The remainder of the day passed lazily. Dick Minot felt lost indeed, for
seemingly there were no more doughty deeds to be done in the name of
Jephson. The Gaiety lady was gone; her letters were in the hands of the man
who had written them. The claimant to the title languished among the
alligators of Tarragona, a prisoner. Trimmer appeared to be baffled.
Bridesmaids arrived. The wedding gown appeared. It looked like smooth
sailing now.
Jack Paddock, met for a moment late in the afternoon, announced airily:
By the way, the Duke and Duchess of Lismore have come. You know—
the sausage lady and her captive. My word—you should see her! A
wardrobe to draw tears of envy from a theatrical star. Fifty costly necklaces
—and only one neck!
Tragic, smiled Minot.
Funny thing's happened, Paddock whispered. I met the duchess once
abroad. She sent for me this noon and almost bowled me over. Seems she's
heard of Mrs. Bruce as the wittiest woman in San Marco. And she's jealous.
'You're a clever boy,' says her ladyship to me. 'Coach me up so I can
outshine Mrs. Bruce.' What do you know?
Ah—but you were the pioneer, Minot reminded him.
Well, I was, for that matter, said Mr. Paddock. But I know now it
wasn't a clever idea, if this woman can think of it, too.
What did you tell her?
I was shocked. I showed it. It seemed deception to me. Still—she made
me an offer that—well, I told her I'd think it over.
Good heavens, Jack! You wouldn't try to sell 'em both dialogue?
Why not? Play one against the other—make 'em keener for my goods.
I've got a notion to clean up here quick and then go back to the real stuff.
That little girl from the Middle West—I've forgot all about her, of course.
But speaking of cleaning up—I'm thinking of it, Dick, my boy. Yes, I
believe I'll take them both on—secretly, of course. It means hard work for
me, but when one loves one's art, no service seems too tough.
You're hopeless, Minot groaned.
Say not so, laughed Paddock, and went away humming a frivolous
tune.
At a quarter before seven, for the first time, Minot entered Mr. Tom
Stacy's Manhattan Club and Grill. To any one who crossed Mr. Stacy's
threshold with the expectation of immediately encountering lights and
gaiety, the first view of the interior came as a distinct shock. The main
dining-room of the Manhattan Club was dim with the holy dimness of a
cathedral. Its lamps, hung high, were buried in oriental trappings, and shone
half-heartedly. Faintly through the gloom could be discerned white table-
cloths, gleaming silver. The scene demanded hushed voices, noiseless
footsteps. It got both.
The main dining-room was hollowed out of the center of the great stone
building, and its roof was off in the dark three stories above. On each side
of the entrance, stairways led to second and third-floor balconies which
stretched around the room on three sides. From these balconies doors
opened into innumerable rooms—rooms where lights shone brighter, and
from which the chief of police, when he came to make certain financial
arrangements with Mr. Stacy, heard frequently a gentle click-click.
It may have been that the furnishings of the main dining-room and the
balconies were there before Mr. Stacy's coming, or again they may have set
forth his own idea of suitable decoration. Looking about him, Mr. Minot
was reminded of a play like Sumurun after three hard seasons on the road.
Moth-eaten rugs and musty tapestries hung everywhere. Here and there an
atrocious cozy corner belied its name. Iron lanterns gave parsimonious
light. Aged sofa-pillows lay limply. Oriental, Mr. Stacy would have called
the effect. Here in this dim, but scarcely religious light, the patrons of his
grill ate their food, being not without misgivings as they stared through
the gloom at their plates.
The long tables for the Harrowby dinner were already set, and about
them hovered waiters of a color to match the room. Most of the guests had
arrived. Mr. Paddock made it a point to introduce Mr. Minot at once to the
Duchess of Lismore. This noble lady with the packing-house past was
making a commendable effort to lighten the Manhattan Club by a
wonderful display of jewels.
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, when a new planet swims
into his ken, whispered Minot, as the duchess moved away.
Paddock laughed.
A dowdy little woman by day, but a pillar of fire by night, he agreed.
By the way, I'm foreman of her composing-room, beginning to-morrow.
Be careful, Jack, Minot warned.
A double life from now on, Paddock replied, but I think I can get
away with it. Say, for ways that are dark this man Stacy seems to hold a
better hand than the heathen Chinee.
In one corner the portly Spencer Meyrick was orating to a circle of
young people on the evils of gambling. Minot turned away, smiling
cynically. Meyrick, as everybody knew, had made a large part of his fortune
in Wall Street.
The dinner was much larger than Mrs. Bruce's. Minot met a number of
new people—the anemic husband of the jewels, smug in his dukedom, and
several very attractive girls thrilled at being present in Mr. Stacy's sinful
lair. He bestowed a smile upon Aunt Mary, serene among the best people,
and discussed with Mrs. Bruce—who wasted no boughten wit on him—the
Florida climate. Also, he asked the elder of the Omaha girls if she had heard
of Mr. Nat Goodwin's latest wife.
For once the dinner itself was a minor event. It sped rapidly there in the
gloom, and few so much as listened to the flashes of Mrs. Bruce's wit—save
perhaps the duchess, enviously. It was after the dinner, when Harrowby led
his guests to the entertainment above, that interest grew tense.
No gloom in that bright room overhead. A cluster of electric lights shed
their brilliance on Mr. Stacy's pet roulette tables, set amid parlor furnishings
of atrocious plush. From one corner a faro lay-out that had once flourished
on Fifty-eighth Street, New York, beckoned. And on each side, through
open doors, might be seen rooms furnished for the game of poker.
Mr. Stacy's assistant, a polished gentleman with a face like aged ivory,
presided over the roulette table. He swung the wheel a few times, an
inviting smile on his face. Harrowby, his eyes bright, laid a sum of money
beside a row of innocent figures. He won. He tried again, and won. Some of
the young women pushed close to the table, visibly affected. Others
pretended this sort of thing was an old story to them.
A few of the more adventurous women borrowed coins from the men,
and joined in the play. Arguments and misunderstandings arose, which Mr.
Stacy's assistant urbanely settled. More of the men—Paddock among them
—laid money on the table.
A buzz of excited conversation, punctuated now and then by a deathly
silence as the wheel spun and the little ball hovered heart-breakingly, filled
the room. Cheeks glowed red, eyes sparkled, the crush about the table
increased. Spencer Meyrick himself risked from his endless store. Mr. Tom
Stacy's place was in full swing.
Dick Minot caught Cynthia Meyrick's glance as she stood close beside
Lord Harrowby. She seemed another girl to-night, grave rather than gay, her
great brown eyes apparently looking into the future, wondering, fearing. As
for Harrowby, he was a man transformed. Not for nothing was he the son of
the sporting Earl of Raybrook—the peer who never failed to take a risk. The
excitement of the game was reflected in his tall tense figure, his flaming
cheeks. This was the Harrowby who had made Jephson that gambling
proposition on a seventeenth floor in New York.
And Harrowby won consistently. Won, until a fatal choice of numbers
with an overwhelming stake left him poor again, and he saw all his
winnings swept to swell Tom Stacy's store. Quickly he wormed his way out
of the crowd and sought Minot.
May I see you a moment? he asked. Out here. And he led the way to
the gloom of the balcony.
If I only had the cash, Harrowby whispered excitedly, I could break
Stacy to-night. And I'm going to get it. Will you give me the necklace,
please.
You forget, Minot objected, that the necklace is supposed to have
been stolen.
No. No. That's no matter. I'll arrange that. Hurry—
You forget, too, that you told me this morning that should this necklace
be found now—
Mr. Minot—the necklace belongs to me. Will you kindly let me have
it.
Certainly, said Minot coldly. And, much annoyed, he returned to the
room amid the buzz and the thrill of gambling.
Harrowby ran quickly down the stairs. In the office of the club he found
Tom Stacy in amiable converse with Martin Wall. He threw Chain
Lightning's Collar on the manager's desk.
How much can you loan me on that? he demanded.
With a grunt of surprise, Mr. Stacy took up the famous collar in his thick
fingers. He gazed at it for a moment. Then he looked up, and caught Martin
Wall's crafty eye over Harrowby's shoulder.
Not a cent, said Mr. Stacy firmly.
What! I don't understand. Harrowby gazed at him blankly. It's worth
—
Not a cent, Stacy repeated. That's final.
Harrowby turned appealingly to Martin Wall.
You— he pleaded.
I'm not investing, Wall replied, with a queer smile.
Lord Harrowby restored the necklace to his pocket and, crestfallen,
gloomy, went back to the room above.
Wouldn't loan me anything on it, he whispered to Minot. I don't
understand, really.
Thereafter Harrowby suffered the pain of watching others play. And
while he watched, in the little office down-stairs, a scene of vital bearing on
his future was enacted.
A short stocky man with a bullet-shaped head had pushed open the door
on Messrs. Stacy and Wall. He stood, looking about him with a cynical
smile.
Hello, Tom, he said.
Old Bill Huntley! cried Stacy. By gad, you gave me a turn. I forgot
for a minute that you can't raid me down here.
Them happy days is past, returned Mr. Huntley dryly. I'm working for
Uncle Sam, now, Tom. Got new fish to fry. Used to have some gay times in
New York, didn't we? Oh, hello, Craig!
My name is Martin Wall, said that gentleman stiffly.
Ain't he got the lovely manners, said Huntley, pretending admiration.
Always did have, too. And the swell friends. Still going round in the caviar
crowd, I hear. What if I was to tell your friends here who you are?
You won't do that, said Wall, outwardly unshaken, but his breath came
faster.
Oh—you're sure of that, are you?
Yes. Who I am isn't one of your worries in your new line of business.
And you're going to keep still because I can do you a favor—and I will.
Thanks, Craig. Excuse me—Martin Wall. Sort of a strain keeping track
of your names, you know.
Forget that. I say I can do you a favor—if you'll promise not to mix in
my affairs.
Well—what is it?
You're down here looking for a diamond necklace known as Chain
Lightning's Collar.
Great little guesser, you are. Well—what about it?
Promise?
You deliver the goods, and I'll see.
All right. You'll find that necklace in Lord Harrowby's pocket right now.
And you'll find Lord Harrowby in a room up-stairs.
Mr. Huntley stood for a moment staring at the man he called Craig. Then
with a grunt he turned away.
Two minutes later, in the bright room above, that same rather vulgar
grunt sounded in Lord Harrowby's patrician ear. He turned, and his face
paled. Hopelessly he looked toward Minot. Then without a word he
followed Huntley from the room.
Only two of that excited crowd about the wheel noticed. And these two
fled simultaneously to the balcony. There, half hidden behind an ancient
musty rug, Cynthia Meyrick and Minot watched together.
Harrowby and Huntley descended the soft stairs. At the bottom, Martin
Wall and Stacy were waiting. The sound of voices pitched low could be
heard on the balcony, but though they strained to hear, the pair above could
not. However, they could see the plebeian hand of Mr. Huntley held out to
Lord Harrowby. They could see Harrowby reach into his pocket, and bring
forth a white envelope. Next they beheld Chain Lightning's Collar gleam in
the dusk as Huntley held it up. A few low words, and Harrowby went out
with the detective.
Martin Wall ascended the stair. On the dim balcony he was confronted
by a white-faced girl whose wonderful copper hair had once held Chain
Lightning's Collar.
What does it mean? she asked, her voice low and tense.
Mean? Martin Wall laughed. It means that Lord Harrowby must go
north and face a United States Commissioner in Jersey City. It seems that
when he brought that necklace over he quite forgot to tell the customs
officials about it.
Go north! When?
To-night. On the midnight train. North to Jersey City.
Mr. Wall went into the bright room where the excitement buzzed on,
oblivious. Cynthia Meyrick turned to Minot.
But he can't possibly get back— she cried.
No. He can't get back. I'm sorry.
And my wedding dress—came last night.
She stood clutching a moth-eaten tapestry in her slim white hand. In the
gloom of that dull old balcony her eyes shone strangely.
Some things aren't to be, she whispered. And—very faintly—others
are.
A thrill shot through Minot, sharp as a pain, but glorious. What did she
mean by that? What indeed but the one thing that must not happen—the
thing he wanted most of all things in the world to happen—the thing he had
come to San Marco to prevent. He came closer to her—and closer—the
blood was pounding in his brain. Dazed, exulting, he held out his arms.
Cynthia! he cried.
And then suddenly behind her, on the stairs, he caught sight of a great
bald head ascending through the dusk. It was an ordinary bald head, the
property of Mr. Stacy in fact, but to Minot a certain Jephson seemed to be
moving beneath it He remembered. His arms fell to his sides. He turned
away.
We must see what can be done, he said mechanically.
Yes, Cynthia Meyrick agreed in an odd tone, we must see what can be
done.
And a tear, unnoticed, fell on Mr. Stacy's aged oriental tapestry.
CHAPTER XV
A BIT OF A BLOW
Miss Meyrick turned back toward the room of chance to find her father.
Minot, meanwhile, ran down the steps, obtained his hat and coat, and
hurried across the street to the hotel. He went at once to Harrowby's rooms.
There he encountered a scene of wild disorder. The round-faced valet
was packing trunks against time, and his time-keeper, Mr. Bill Huntley, sat
in a corner, grim and silent, watch in hand. Lord Harrowby paced the floor
madly. When he saw Minot he held out his long, lean, helpless hands.
You've heard, old boy? he said.
Yes, I've heard, said Minot sharply. A fine fix, Harrowby. Why the
deuce didn't you pay the duty on that necklace?
Dear boy! Was saving every cent I had for—you know what. Besides, I
heard of such a clever scheme for slipping it in—
Never mind that! Mr. Huntley, this gentleman was to have been married
on Tuesday. Can't you hold off until then?
Nothing doing, said Mr. Huntley firmly. I got to get back to New
York. He'll have to postpone his wedding. Ought to have thought of these
things before he pulled off his little stunt.
It's no use, Minot, said Harrowby hopelessly. I've gone all over it with
this chap. He won't listen to reason. What the deuce am I to do?
A knock sounded on the door and Spencer Meyrick, red-faced, flirting
with apoplexy, strode into the room.
Lord Harrowby, he announced, I desire to see you alone.
Er—step into the bedroom, Harrowby suggested.
Mr. Huntley rose promptly to his feet.
Nix, he said. There's a door out of that room leading into the hall. If
you go in there, I go, too.
Mr. Meyrick glared. Harrowby stood embarrassed.
Very well, said Meyrick through his teeth. We'll stay here. It doesn't
matter to me. I simply want to say, Lord Harrowby, that when you get to
Jersey City you needn't trouble to come back, as far as my family is
concerned.
A look of pain came into Harrowby's thin face.
Not come back, he said. My dear sir—
That's what I said. I'm a plain man, Harrowby. A plain American. It
doesn't seem to me that marrying into the British nobility is worth all the
trouble it's costing us—
But really—
It may be, but it doesn't look that way to me. I prefer a simple wedding
to a series of vaudeville acts. If you think I'm going to stand for the
publicity of this latest affair, you're mistaken. I've talked matters over with
Cynthia—the marriage is off—for good!
But my dear sir, Cynthia and I are very fond of each other—
I don't give a damn if you are! Meyrick fumed. This is the last straw.
I'm through with you. Good night, and good-by.
He stamped out as he had come, and Lord Harrowby fell limply into a
chair.
All over, and all done, he moaned.
And Jephson loses, said Minot with mixed emotions.
Yes—I'm sorry. Harrowby shook his head tragically. Sorrier than you
are, old chap. I love Cynthia Meyrick—really I do. This is a bit of a blow.
Come, come! cried Mr. Huntley. I'm not going to miss that train while
you play-act. We've only got half an hour, now.
Harrowby rose unhappily and went into the inner room, Huntley at his
heels. Minot sat, his unseeing eyes gazing down at the old copy of the
London Times which Harrowby had been reading that morning at breakfast.
Gradually, despite his preoccupation, a name in a head-line forced itself
to his attention. Courtney Giles. Where had he heard that name before? He
picked up the Times from the table on which it was lying. He read:
The Ardent Lover, the new romantic comedy in which Courtney Giles
has appeared briefly at the West End Road Theater, will be removed from
the boards to-night. The public has not been appreciative. If truth must be
told—and bitter truth it is—the once beloved matinée idol has become too
fat to hold his old admirers, and they have drifted steadily to other, slimmer
gods. Mr. Giles' early retirement from the stage is rumored.
Minot threw down the paper. Poor old Jephson! First the rain on the
dowager duchess, then an actor's expanding waist—and to-morrow the
news that Harrowby's wedding was not to be. Why, it would ruin the man!
Minot stepped to the door of the inner room.
I'm going out to think, he announced. I'll see you in the lobby before
you leave.
Two minutes later, in the summer-house where he had bid good-by to the
sparkling Gaiety lady, he sat puffing furiously at a cigar. Back into the past
as it concerned Chain Lightning's Collar he went. That night when Cynthia
Meyrick had worn it in her hair, and Harrowby, hearing of the search for it
—had snatched it in the dark. His own guardianship of the valuable trinket
—Martin Wall's invasion of his rooms—the dropping of the jewels on
shipboard, and the return of them by Mr. Wall next morning. And last, but
not least, Mr. Stacy's firm refusal to loan money on the necklace that very
night.
All these things Minot pondered.
Meanwhile Harrowby, having finished his packing, descended to the
lobby of the De la Pax. In a certain pink parlor he found Cynthia Meyrick,
and stood gazing helplessly into her eyes.
Cynthia—your father said—is it true?
It's true, Allan.
You too wish the wedding—indefinitely postponed?
Father thinks it best—
But you? He came closer. You, Cynthia?
I—I don't know. There has been so much trouble, Allan—
I know. And I'm fearfully sorry about this latest. But, Cynthia—you
mustn't send me away—I love you. Do you doubt that?
No, Allan.
You're the most wonderful girl who has ever come into my life—I want
you in it always—beside me—
At any rate, Allan, a wedding next Tuesday is impossible now.
Yes, I'm afraid it is. And after that—
After that—I don't know, Allan.
Aunt Mary came into the room, distress written plainly in her plump
face. No misstep of the peerage was beyond Aunt Mary's forgiveness. She
took Harrowby's hand.
I'm so sorry, your lordship, she said. Most unfortunate. But I'm sure it
will all be cleared away in time—
Mr. Huntley made it a point to interrupt. He stood at the door, watch in
hand.
Come on, he said. We've got to start.
Harrowby followed the ladies from the room. In the lobby Spencer
Meyrick joined them. His lordship shook hands with Aunt Mary, with Mr.
Meyrick—then he turned to the girl.
Good-by, Cynthia, he said unhappily. He took her slim white hand in
his. Then he turned quickly and started with Huntley for the door.
It was at this point that Mr. Minot, his cigar and his cogitations finished,
entered upon the scene.
Just a minute, he said to Mr. Huntley.
Not another minute, remarked Huntley with decision. Not for the
King of England himself. We got just fifteen of 'em left to catch that train,
and if I know San Marco hackmen—
You've got time to answer one or two questions. Impressed by Minot's
tone, the Meyrick family moved nearer. There's no doubt, is there, Mr.
Huntley, that the necklace you have in your pocket is the one Lord
Harrowby brought from England?
Of course not. Now, get out of the way—
Are you a good judge of jewels, Mr. Huntley?
Well, I've got a little reputation in that line. But say—
Then I suggest, said Minot impressively, that you examine Chain
Lightning's Collar closely.
Thanks for the suggestion, sneered Mr. Huntley. I'll follow it—when I
get time. Just now I've got to—
You'd better follow it now—before you catch a train. Otherwise you
may be so unfortunate as to make a fool of yourself.
Mr. Huntley stood, hesitating. There was something in Minot's tone that
rang true. The detective again looked at his watch. Then, with one of his
celebrated grunts, he pulled out the necklace, and stood staring at it with a
new expression.
He grunted again, and stepped to a near-by writing-desk, above which
hung a powerful electric light. The others followed. Mr. Huntley laid the
necklace on the desk, and took out a small microscope which was attached
to one end of his watch-chain. With rapt gaze he stared at the largest of the
diamonds. He went the length of the string, examining each stone in turn.
The expression on Mr. Huntley's face would have made him a star in the
movies.
Hell! he cried, and threw Chain Lightning's Collar down on the desk.
What's the matter? Mr. Minot smiled.
Glass, snarled Huntley. Fine old bottle glass. What do you know
about that?
But really—it can't be— put in Harrowby.
Well it is, Mr. Huntley glared at him. The inspector might have
known you moth-eaten noblemen ain't got any of the real stuff left.
I won't believe it— Harrowby began, but caught Minot's eye.
It's true, just the same, Minot said. By the way, Mr. Huntley, how
much is that little ornament worth?
About nine dollars and twenty-five cents. Mr. Huntley still glared
angrily.
Well—you can't take Lord Harrowby back for not declaring that, can
you?
No, snorted Huntley. But I can go back myself, and I'm going—on
that midnight train. Good-by.
Minot followed him to the door.
Aren't you going to thank me? he asked. You know, I saved you—
Thank you! Hell! said Huntley, and disappeared into the dark.
When Minot returned he found Harrowby standing facing the Meyricks,
and holding the necklace in his hand as though it were a bomb on the point
of exploding.
I say, I feel rather low, he was saying, when I remember that I made
you a present of this thing, Cynthia. But on my honor, I didn't know. And I
can scarcely believe it now. I know the governor has been financially
embarrassed—but I never suspected him of this—the associations were so
dear—really—
It may not have been your father who duplicated Chain Lightning's
Collar with a fake, Minot suggested.
My word, old boy, who then?
You remember, said Minot, addressing the Meyricks, that the
necklace was stolen recently. Well—it was returned to Lord Harrowby
under unusual circumstances. At least, this collection of glass was returned.
My theory is that the thief had a duplicate made—an old trick.
The very idea, Harrowby cried. I say, Minot, you are clever. I should
never have thought of that.
Thanks, said Minot dryly. He sought to avoid Miss Cynthia Meyrick's
eyes.
Er—by the way, said Harrowby, looking at Spencer Meyrick. There is
nothing to prevent the wedding now.
The old man shrugged his shoulders.
I leave that to my daughter, he said, and turned away.
Cynthia? Harrowby pleaded.
Miss Meyrick cast a strange look at Minot, standing forlorn before her.
And then she smiled—not very happily.
There seems to be no reason for changing our plans, she said slowly.
It would be a great disappointment to—so many people. Good night.
Minot followed her to the elevator.
It's as I told you this morning, he said miserably. I'm just one of the
pawns in the hands of the Master of the Show. I can't explain—
What is there to explain? the girl asked coldly. I congratulate you on a
highly successful evening.
The elevator door banged shut between them.
Turning, Minot encountered Aunt Mary.
You clever boy, she cried. We are all so very grateful to you. You
have saved us from a very embarrassing situation.
Please don't mention it, Minot replied, and he meant it.
He sat down beside the dazed Harrowby on one of the lobby sofas.
I'm all at sea, really, old chap, Harrowby confessed. But I must say—I
admire you tremendously. How the devil did you know the necklace was a
fraud?
I didn't know—I guessed, said Minot. And the thing that led me to
make that happy guess was Tom Stacy's refusal to loan you money on it to-
night. Mr. Stacy is no fool.
And you think that Martin Wall has the real Chain Lightning's Collar?
It looks that way to me. There's only one thing against my theory. He
didn't clear out when he had the chance. But he may be staying on to avert
suspicion. We haven't any evidence to arrest him on—and if we did there'd
be the customs people to deal with. If I were you I'd hire a private detective
to watch Wall, and try to get the real necklace back without enlisting the
arm of the law.
Really, said Harrowby, things are happening so swiftly I'm at a loss to
follow them. I am, old boy. First one obstacle and then another. You've been
splendid, Minot, splendid. I want to thank you for all you have done. I
thought to-night the wedding had gone glimmering. And I'm fond of Miss
Meyrick. Tremendously.
Don't thank me, Minot replied. I'm not doing it for you—we both
know that. I'm protecting Jephson's money. In a few days, wedding-bells.
And then me back to New York, shouting never again on the Cupid act. If
I'm ever roped into another job like this—
It has been a trying position for you, Harrowby said sympathetically.
And you've done nobly. I'm sure your troubles are all out of the way now.
With the necklace worry gone—
He paused. For across the lobby toward them walked Henry Trimmer,
and his walk was that of a man who is going somewhere.
Ah—Mister Harrowby, he boomed, and Mr. Minot I've been looking
for you both. It will interest you to know that I had a wireless message from
Lord Harrowby this noon.
A wireless? cried Minot.
Yes. Trimmer laughed. Not such a fool as you think him, Lord
Harrowby isn't. Managed to send me a wireless from Tarragona despite the
attentions of your friends. So I went out there this afternoon and brought
George back with me.
Silently Minot and Harrowby stared at each other.
Yes, Mr. Trimmer went on, George is back again—back under the
direction of little me, a publicity man with no grass under the feet. I've
come to give you gentlemen your choice. You either see Lord Harrowby to-
morrow morning at ten o'clock and recognize his claims, or I'll have you
both thrown into jail for kidnaping.
To-morrow morning at ten, Harrowby repeated gloomily.
That's what I said, replied Mr. Trimmer blithely. How about it, little
brother?
Minot—what would you advise?
See him, sighed Minot.
Very well. Harrowby's tone was resigned. I presume I'd better.
Ah—coming to your senses, aren't you? said Trimmer. I hope we
aren't spoiling the joyous wedding-day. But then, what I say is, if the girl's
marrying you just for the title—
Harrowby leaped to his feet
You haven't been asked for an opinion, he said.
No, of course not. Don't get excited. I'll see you both in the morning at
ten. And Mr. Trimmer strolled elegantly away.
Harrowby turned hopefully Jo Minot.
At ten in the morning, he repeated. Old chap, what are we going to do
at ten in the morning?
I don't know, smiled Minot. But if past performances mean anything,
we'll win.
CHAPTER XVI
WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND
What's the matter with you?
Seated in the lobby of the De la Pax on Sunday morning, Mr. Trimmer
turned a disapproving eye upon the lank Englishman at his side as he made
this query. And his question was not without good foundation. For the
aspirant to the title of Lord Harrowby was at the moment a jelly quaking
with fear.
Fawncy meeting you after all these years, said poor old George in an
uncertain treble.
Come, come, cried Mr. Trimmer, put a little more authority into your
voice. You can't walk up and claim your rights with your knees dancing the
tango. This is the moment we've been looking forward to. Act determined.
Walk into that room up-stairs as though you were walking into Rakedale
Hall to take charge of it.
Allan, don't you know me—I'm your brother George, went on the
Englishman, intent on rehearsing.
More like it, said Trimmer. Put the fire into it. You're not expecting a
thrashing, you know. You're expecting the title and recognition that belongs
to you. I wish I was the real Lord Harrowby. I guess I'd show 'em a thing or
two.
I wish you was, agreed poor old George sadly. Somehow, I don't seem
to have the spirit I used to have.
A good point, commented Trimmer. Years of wrong and suffering
have made you timid. I'll call that to their attention. Five minutes of ten,
your lordship.
His lordship groaned.
All right, I'm ready, he said. What is it I say as I go in? Oh, yes— He
stepped into the elevator—Fawncy seeing you after all these years.
The negro elevator boy was somewhat startled at this greeting, but
regained his composure and started the car. Mr. Trimmer and his
proposition shot up toward their great opportunity.
In Lord Harrowby's suite that gentleman sat in considerable nervousness,
awaiting the undesired encounter. With him sat Miss Meyrick and her
father, whom he had thought it necessary to invite to witness the ordeal. Mr.
Richard Minot uneasily paced the floor, avoiding as much as possible the
glances of Miss Meyrick's brown eyes. Ten o'clock was upon him, and Mr.
Minot was no nearer a plan of action than he had been the preceding night.
Every good press agent is not without a live theatrical sense, and Mr.
Trimmer was no exception. He left his trembling claimant in the entrance
hall and strode into the room.
Good morning, he said brightly. Here we are, on time to the minute.
Ah—I beg your pardon.
Lord Harrowby performed brief introductions, which Mr. Trimmer
effusively acknowledged. Then he turned dramatically toward his lordship.
Out here in the hallway stands a poor broken creature, he began. Your
own flesh and blood, Allan Harrowby. Obviously Mr. Trimmer had
prepared speeches for himself as well as for poor old George. For twenty
odd and impecunious years, he went on, this man has been denied his just
heritage. We are here this morning to perform a duty—
My dear fellow, broke in Harrowby wearily, why should you inflict
oratory upon us? Bring in this—er—gentleman.
That I will, replied Trimmer heartily. And when you have heard his
story, digested his evidence, I am sure—
Yes, yes. Bring him in.
Mr. Trimmer stepped to the door. He beckoned. A very reluctant figure
shuffled in. George's face was green with fright. His knees rattled together.
He made, altogether, a ludicrous picture, and Mr. Trimmer himself noted
this with sinking heart.
Allow me, said Trimmer theatrically. George, Lord Harrowby.
George cleared his throat, but did not succeed in dislodging his heart,
which was there at the moment.
Fawncy seeing you after all these years, he mumbled weakly, to no one
in particular.
Speak up, said Spencer Meyrick sharply.
Who is it you're talking to?
To him, explained George, nodding toward Lord Harrowby. To my
brother Allan. Don't you know me, Allan? Don't you know—
He stopped. An expression of surprise and relief swept over his worried
face. He turned triumphantly to Trimmer.
I don't have to prove who I am to him, he announced.
Why don't you? demanded Trimmer in alarm.
Because he can't, I fancy, put in Lord Harrowby.
No, said George slowly, because I never saw him before in all my
life.
Ah—you admit it, cried Allan Harrowby with relief.
Of course I do, replied George. I never saw you before in my life.
And you've never been at Rakedale Hall, have you? Lord Harrowby
demanded.
Here—wait a minute— shouted Trimmer, in a panic.
Oh, yes—I've been at Rakedale Hall, said the claimant firmly. I spent
my boyhood there. But you've never been there.
I—what—
You've never been at Rakedale Hall. Why? Because you're not Allan
Harrowby! That's why.
A deathly silence fell. Only a little traveling clock on the mantel was
articulate.
Absurd—ridiculous— cried Lord Harrowby.
Talk about impostors, cried George, his spirit and his courage
sweeping back. You're one yourself. I wish I'd got a good look at you
sooner, I'd have put a stop to all this. Allan Harrowby, eh? I guess not. I
guess I'd know my own brother if I saw him. I guess I know the Harrowby
features. I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town—you blooming
fraud.
The man's crazy, Allan Harrowby cried. Raving mad. He's an
impostor—this is a trick of his— He looked helplessly around the circle.
In every face he saw doubt, questioning. Good heavens—you're not going
to listen to him? He's come here to prove that he's George Harrowby. Why
doesn't he do it?
I'll do it, said George sweetly, when I meet a real Harrowby. In the
meantime, I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town. You'd better go.
Victorious, George turned toward the door. Trimmer, lost between
admiration and doubt, turned also.
Take my advice, George proclaimed. Make him prove who he is.
That's the important point now. What does it matter to you who I am?
Nothing. But it matters a lot about him. Make him prove that he's Allan
Harrowby.
And, with the imperious manner that he should have adopted on entering
the room, George Harrowby left it. Mr. Trimmer, eclipsed for once, trotted
at his side.
Say, cried Trimmer in the hall, is that on the level? Isn't he Allan
Harrowby?
I should say not, said George grandly. Doesn't look anything like
Allan.
Trimmer chortled in glee.
Great stuff, he cried. I guess we tossed a bomb, eh? Now, we'll run
him out of town.
Oh, no, said George. We've done our work here. Let's go over to
London now and see the pater.
That we will, cried Trimmer. That we will. By gad, I'm proud of you
to-day, Lord Harrowby.
Inside Allan Harrowby's suite three pairs of questioning eyes were
turned on that harassed nobleman. He fidgeted in his chair.
I say, he pleaded. It's all his bluff, you know.
Maybe, said old Spencer Meyrick, rising. But Harrowby—or
whatever your name is—there's altogether too much three-ring circus about
this wedding to suit me. My patience is exhausted, sir—clean exhausted.
Things look queer to me—have right along. I'm more than inclined to
believe what that fellow said.
But my dear sir—that chap is a rank impostor. There wasn't a word of
truth in what he said. Cynthia—you understand—
Why, yes—I suppose so, the girl replied. You are Allan Harrowby,
aren't you?
My dear girl—of course I am.
Nevertheless, said Spencer Meyrick with decision, I'm going to call
the wedding off again. Some of your actions haven't made much of a hit
with me. I'm going to call it off until you come to me and prove that you're
Allan Harrowby—a lord in good and regular standing, with all dues paid.
But—confound it, sir—a gentleman's word—
Mr. Meyrick, put in Minot, may I be allowed to say that I consider
your action hasty—
And may I be allowed to ask what affair this is of yours? demanded
Mr. Meyrick hotly.
Father! cried Miss Meyrick. Please do not be harsh with Mr. Minot.
His heart is absolutely set on my marriage with Lord Harrowby. Naturally
he feels very badly over all this.
Minot winced.
Come, Cynthia, said Meyrick, moving toward the door. I've had
enough of this play-acting. Remember, sir—the wedding is off—absolutely
off—until you are able to establish your identity beyond question.
And he and his daughter went out. Minot sat for a long time staring at
Lord Harrowby. Finally he spoke.
Say, Harrowby, he inquired, who the devil are you?
His lordship sadly shook his head.
You, too, Brutus, he sighed. Haven't I one friend left? I'm Allan
Harrowby. Ask Jephson. If I weren't, that policy that's causing you so much
trouble wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on.
That's right, too. Well, admitting you're Harrowby, how are you going
to prove it?
I've an idea, Harrowby replied.
Everything comes to him who waits. What is it?
A very good friend of mine—an old Oxford friend—is attached to our
embassy at Washington. He was planning to come down for the wedding.
I'll telegraph him to board the next train.
Good boy, said Minot. That's a regular idea. Better send the wire at
once.

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Essentials of Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach Third Edition Scandura

  • 1. Essentials of Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach Third Edition Scandura pdf download https://ebookmeta.com/product/essentials-of-organizational- behavior-an-evidence-based-approach-third-edition-scandura/ Download more ebook from https://ebookmeta.com
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  • 7. To T. K. For keeping it real. Sara Miller McCune founded SAGE Publishing in 1965 to support the dissemination of usable knowledge and educate a global community. SAGE publishes more than 1000 journals and over 600 new books each year, spanning a wide range of subject areas. Our growing selection of library products includes archives, data, case studies and video. SAGE remains majority owned by our founder and after her lifetime will become owned by a charitable trust that secures the company’s continued independence. Los Angeles | London | New Delhi | Singapore | Washington DC | Melbourne
  • 8. Essentials of Organizational Behavior An Evidence-Based Approach Third Edition Terri A. Scandura University of Miami
  • 9. FOR INFORMATION: SAGE Publications, Inc. 2455 Teller Road Thousand Oaks, California 91320 E-mail: order@sagepub.com SAGE Publications Ltd. 1 Oliver’s Yard 55 City Road London EC1Y 1SP United Kingdom SAGE Publications India Pvt. Ltd. B 1/I 1 Mohan Cooperative Industrial Area Mathura Road, New Delhi 110 044 India SAGE Publications Asia-Pacific Pte. Ltd. 18 Cross Street #10-10/11/12 China Square Central Singapore 048423 Acquisitions Editor: Maggie Stanley Sponsoring Editor: Lauren Gobell Editorial Assistant: Sarah Wilson Production Editor: Veronica Stapleton Hooper Copy Editor: Teresa Herlinger Typesetter: C&M Digitals (P) Ltd. Proofreader: Wendy Jo Dymond Indexer: Integra Cover Designer: Janet Kiesel Marketing Manager: Jennifer Jones Copyright © 2022 by SAGE Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. copyright law, no part of this work may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. All third party trademarks referenced or depicted herein are included solely for the purpose of illustration and are the property of their respective owners. Reference to these trademarks in no way indicates any relationship with, or endorsement by, the trademark owner. Printed in the United States of America ISBN: 978-1-5443-9678-1 Library of Congress Control Number: 2020915194 This book is printed on acid-free paper. 20 21 22 23 24 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
  • 10. BRIEF CONTENTS Preface xix Acknowledgments xxxi About the Author xxxvi SECTION I • INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 1 • What Is Organizational Behavior? 2 SECTION II • UNDERSTANDING INDIVIDUALS IN ORGANIZATIONS 29 CHAPTER 2 • Personality and Person–Environment Fit 30 CHAPTER 3 • Emotions and Moods 52 CHAPTER 4 • Attitudes and Job Satisfaction 71 CHAPTER 5 • Perception, Decision-Making, and Problem Solving 94 SECTION III • INFLUENCING AND MOTIVATING EMPLOYEES 123 CHAPTER 6 • Leadership 124 CHAPTER 7 • Power and Politics 154 CHAPTER 8 • Motivation: Core Concepts 178 CHAPTER 9 • Motivation: Applications 205 SECTION IV • BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS 237 CHAPTER 10 • Group Processes and Teams 238 CHAPTER 11 • Managing Conflict and Negotiation 275
  • 11. CHAPTER 12 • Organizational Communication 309 CHAPTER 13 • Diversity and Cross-Cultural Adjustments 337 SECTIONV • LEADERS AS CHANGE AGENTS 371 CHAPTER 14 • Organizational Culture 372 CHAPTER 15 • Leading Change and Stress Management 397 Appendix 1:The Scientific Method in Organizational Behavior 434 Appendix 2: Organizational Structure 439 Glossary 459 Notes 475 Author Index 551 Subject Index 557
  • 12. DETAILED CONTENTS Preface xix Acknowledgments xxxi About the Author xxxvi SECTION I • INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 1 • What Is Organizational Behavior? 2 Learning Objectives 2 A Crisis in Organizations? 2 What Is Going on With CEO Leadership? 3 What Is Organizational Behavior? 4 Disciplines Contributing to Organizational Behavior 5 From Theory to Practice 6 Evidence-Based Management 6 What Is Critical Thinking? 11 Applying Critical Thinking to Theories in Organizational Behavior 13 Outcomes in Organizational Behavior 14 Performance 14 Attitudes 14 Employee Well-Being 16 Thriving 16 Motivation 16 Employee Withdrawal 17 Levels of Analysis in Organizational Behavior 17 How OB Research Increases Employee Performance 18 Plan for This Textbook 20 Leadership Implications: Thinking Critically 21 Key Terms 22 Toolkit Activity 1.1: Personal Leadership Development Plan 23 Toolkit Activity 1.2: Assessing Your Experiential Evidence Base 24 Case Study 1.1: Evidence-Based Management: People Analytics at Google 26
  • 13. SECTION II • UNDERSTANDING INDIVIDUALS IN ORGANIZATIONS 29 CHAPTER 2 • Personality and Person–Environment Fit 30 Learning Objectives 30 The Personality Effect in Unicorns 30 What Is Personality? 31 Myers-Briggs Type Indicator 33 Limitations of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator 34 How the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator Is Used in Organizations 34 The Big Five 35 Personality Traits and Health Research 37 Other Relevant Personality Traits 39 Machiavellianism 39 Self-Monitoring 41 Resilience 41 Risk-Taking 42 Psychological Capital 43 Person–Environment Fit 44 Person–Organization Fit 44 Person–Job Fit 45 Personality–Job Fit Theory 46 Leadership Implications: Understanding Others 47 Key Terms 49 Toolkit Activity 2.1: Fitting in Somewhere Great! 49 Case Study 2.1: Whom Would You Hire? 50 CHAPTER 3 • Emotions and Moods 52 Learning Objectives 52 Does Lack of Sleep Make You Grumpy? 52 Emotions and Moods at Work 53 Affective Events Theory 54 Moods56 Affective Climate 56 The Broaden-and-Build Model of Emotions 57 Emotional Labor 59 Acting at Work 60 Emotional Division of Labor 60 Emotional Intelligence 61 Can Emotional Intelligence Be Learned? 62 Limitations of Emotional Intelligence 62
  • 14. How Emotional Intelligence Is Used in Organizations 62 Regulating Emotions 65 Emotional Contagion 65 Leadership Implications: Mindful Coaching 66 Key Terms 68 Toolkit Activity 3.1: The 5-Minute Gratitude Exercise 68 Case Study 3.1: Managing Your Boss’s Moods and Emotions 69 CHAPTER 4 • Attitudes and Job Satisfaction 71 Learning Objectives 71 Job Satisfaction: Trends and Causes 71 What Is an Attitude? 72 Components of an Attitude 72 Cognitive Dissonance 74 Do Attitudes Matter? 74 Job Satisfaction 75 Job Satisfaction Facets 77 Responses to Job Dissatisfaction 79 Job Search Attitudes 80 Organizational Commitment 82 Job Involvement 83 Employee Engagement 84 Perceived Organizational Support 86 Psychological Empowerment 87 Leadership Implications: Creating Meaning at Work 88 Key Terms 90 Toolkit Activity 4.1: What Do Workers Want From Their Jobs? 90 Case Study 4.1: Job Satisfaction in a Family-Owned Company 91 CHAPTER 5 • Perception, Decision-Making, and Problem-Solving 94 Learning Objectives 94 Would You Be Happier if You Were Richer? 94 Understanding Why Perceptual Biases Exist 95 The Primacy Effect 96 The Recency Effect 96 The Availability Bias 97 Contrast Effects 99 Halo Error 100 Employability: Self-Fulfilling Prophecies During the Application Process 101
  • 15. Individual Decision-Making 102 Decision Processes and Organizational Performance 103 Why Some People Can’t Make Decisions 104 Constraints on Individual Decision-Making 104 The Rational Decision-Making Model 104 Limitations of the Rational Model 105 Bounded Rationality 105 Prospect Theory 106 The Importance of How Decisions Are Framed 107 Intuition 109 Benefits of Intuition 109 Wicked Organizational Problems 110 Decision Traps 113 Hindsight Bias 113 Overconfidence 113 Escalation of Commitment 114 Creative Problem-Solving 116 Going With the “Flow” 116 Three-Component Model of Creativity 117 Leadership Implications: Making Ethical Decisions 118 Key Terms 119 Toolkit Activity 5.1: The Oil Drilling Partnership 120 Case Study 5.1: Making Decisions Using Machine Learning at Lufthansa 121 SECTION III • INFLUENCING AND MOTIVATING EMPLOYEES 123 CHAPTER 6 • Leadership 124 Learning Objectives 124 Have Leaders Lost Their Followers’ Trust? 124 What Is Leadership? 125 Differentiating Management and Leadership 126 Managerial Leadership 126 The Trait Approach 128 Limitations of the Trait Approach 129 Leader Behaviors 130 Path–Goal Theory 130 Motivational Leadership Behaviors 130 Adapting to the Situation 131 Leader–Member Exchange 132 Inclusive Leadership 133 Leader–Member Exchange Development 135
  • 16. Followership 135 Attributions and Leader–Member Relationships 136 The Mentor Connection 138 The Importance of Trust 138 Calculus-Based Trust 139 Knowledge-Based Trust 139 Identification-Based Trust 139 Repairing Broken Trust 141 Full-Range Leadership Development 142 Transactional Leadership 142 Transformational Leadership 144 Moral Approaches 144 Ethical Leadership 144 Servant and Authentic Leadership 145 Leadership Implications: Flexibility Matters 147 Key Terms 148 Toolkit Activity 6.1: Comparing Supervisor Leader-Member Exchange 149 Toolkit Activity 6.2: Applying the Full-Range Leadership Development Model 150 Case Study 6.1: Melissa Reiff: Servant Leader of the Container Store 151 CHAPTER 7 • Power and Politics 154 Learning Objectives 154 What Is It Like to Have Power? 154 The Difference Between Power and Influence 155 Power156 Organizational Sources of Power 160 Influence Strategies 161 Which Influence Strategies Are the Most Effective? 161 Influence Without Authority 163 Impression Management 164 Perceptions of Organizational Politics 168 Political Skill 170 Having Both the Will and the Skill for Politics 171 Leadership Implications: Managing With Power 172 Key Terms 174 Toolkit Activity 7.1: Politics or Citizenship? 174 Toolkit Activity 7.2: What Would You Do? 176 Case Study 7.1: Can You Succeed Without Power? 176
  • 17. CHAPTER 8 • Motivation: Core Concepts 178 Learning Objectives 178 Do You Have Grit? 178 What Is Motivation? 179 Needs Theories 180 Goal Setting 181 “SMART” Goals 181 Regulatory Goal Focus 183 The Role of Leaders in Goal Setting 183 Job Characteristics Theory 184 The Motivating Potential of Work 185 Designing Work to Be Motivational 186 Work Redesign and Job Stress 187 Job Crafting 187 The Importance of Fairness 189 Equity Theory 189 Organizational Justice: Expanding Fairness 190 Developing a Fair Reputation 193 Expectancy Theory 193 Expectancy Theory Predictions of Effort and Motivation 194 The Pygmalion Effect 195 The Galatea Effect 197 The Golem Effect 197 Leadership Implications: Who Will Lead? 198 Key Terms 200 Toolkit Activity 8.1: Future Me Letter 200 Toolkit Activity 8.2: SMART Goals Template 201 Case Study 8.1: Vision Boards at Lululemon 202 CHAPTER 9 • Motivation: Applications 205 Learning Objectives 205 The Meaning of Money 205 Reinforcement Theory 206 Reinforcers 207 Punishment 207 Schedules of Reinforcement 207 Organizational Behavior Modification 210 Social Learning Theory 212 The Modeling Process 213 Intrinsic Versus Extrinsic Rewards 213 Relationship Between Intrinsic and Extrinsic Rewards 214 Self-Determination Theory 216
  • 18. What Money Can and Cannot Do 217 Pay Dispersion 217 Performance Management 219 Sources of Performance Management Ratings 219 Performance Management Methods 220 Problems With Performance Reviews 223 Other Forms of Compensation 224 Feedback Seeking 225 Leadership Implications: Motivating With Rewards 226 Key Terms 228 Toolkit Activity 9.1: Performance Appraisal Dos and Don’ts 228 Toolkit Activity 9.2: Performance Management Role-Play 230 Case Study 9.1: Increasing Motivation at Delta One Chennai 235 SECTION IV • BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS 237 CHAPTER 10 • Group Processes and Teams 238 Learning Objectives 238 Does Trust Impact Team Performance? 238 What Is a Team? 240 Work Group Versus Team 241 Team Purpose 241 Team Norms 242 The Team Charter 242 Team Mental Models 243 Team Development 244 Five-Stage Model 244 Team Performance Curve 245 Team Effectiveness 247 Team Metrics 248 Team Learning 249 Team Creativity and Innovation 250 Cohesion 251 Social Identity 253 Groupthink 253 Team Decision-Making 255 Participation in Team Decisions 255 Brainstorming 256 Consensus 257 Multivoting 259 Nominal Group Technique 260 Stepladder 261
  • 19. Team Challenges 261 Social Loafing 261 Virtual Teams 262 Team Diversity 265 Challenges of Team Diversity 265 Benefits of Team Diversity 266 Leadership Implications: Empowering the Team 267 Key Terms 268 Toolkit Activity 10.1: The Team Charter 269 Toolkit Activity 10.2: The Marshmallow Challenge 271 Toolkit Activity 10.3: How to Run an Effective Meeting (Checklist) 272 Case Study 10.1: Problem-Solving in Virtual Teams 273 CHAPTER 11 • Managing Conflict and Negotiation 275 Learning Objectives 275 The Costs of Workplace Conflict 275 What Is Conflict? 277 Causes of Organizational Conflict 277 Is Conflict Always Bad? 280 Task Versus Relationship Conflict 281 Workplace Incivility and Aggression 283 Abusive Supervision 284 Toxic Workplaces 285 Workplace Violence 285 Conflict Resolution Styles 287 Team Conflict and Performance 291 Resolving Conflict Across Cultures 293 Third-Party Interventions 294 Negotiation 296 Distributive Bargaining 297 Integrative Bargaining 298 Emotions at the Bargaining Table 299 Cross-Cultural Negotiation 299 Union–Management Negotiations 300 Leadership Implications: Perspective Taking 301 Key Terms 302 Toolkit Activity 11.1: Checklist for Difficult Conversations 303 Toolkit Activity 11.2: Salary Negotiation 304 Toolkit Activity 11.3: Negotiation Style Assessment 306 Case Study 11.1: Perspective Taking: Health Versus Wealth During the COVID-19 Pandemic 307
  • 20. Exploring the Variety of Random Documents with Different Content
  • 21. Tell it to the marines, remarked Trimmer, lighting a fresh cigar. Just as well that the three shivering figures huddled in the launch on the heaving bosom of the waters could not see this picture. Mr. Wall looked out at the rain, and shivered himself. Eleven-thirty came. And twelve. Two matches from Mr. Paddock's store went to the discovery of these sad facts. Soaked to the skin, glum, silent, the three on the waters sat staring at the unresponsive Lileth. The rain was falling now in a fine drizzle. I suppose, Paddock remarked, we stay here until morning? We might try landing on Tarragona, said Minot. We might try jumping into the ocean, too, responded Paddock, through chattering teeth. Murder, droned poor old George. That's what it'll be. At one o'clock the three wet watchers beheld unusual things. Smoke began to belch from the Lileth's funnels. Her siren sounded. She's steaming out! cried Minot. She's steaming out to sea! And sure enough, the graceful yacht began to move—out past Tarragona Island—out toward the open sea. Once more Paddock started his faithful engine, and, hallooing madly, the three set out in pursuit. Not yet had the Lileth struck its gait, and in fifteen minutes they were alongside. Martin Wall, beholding them from the deck, had a rather unexpected attack of pity, and stopped his engines. The three limp watchers were taken aboard. Wha—what does this mean? chattered Minot. You poor devils, said Martin Wall. Come and have a drink. Mean? He poured. It means that the only way I could get rid of our friend Trimmer was to set out for New York.
  • 22. For New York? cried Minot, standing glass in hand. Yes. Came on board, Trimmer did, searched the boat, and then declared I'd shipped George away until his visit should be over. So he and his friends —one of them the chief of police, by the way—sat down to wait for your return. Gad—I thought of you out in that rain. Sat and sat and sat. What could I do? To Trimmer, the brute, said Paddock, raising his glass. Finally I had an idea. I had the boys pull up anchor and start the engines. Trimmer wanted to know the answer. 'Leaving for New York to- night,' I said. 'Want to come along?' He wasn't sure whether he would go or not, but his friends were sure they wouldn't. Put up an awful howl, and just before we got under way Mr. Trimmer and party crawled into their rowboat and splashed back to San Marco. Well—what now? asked Minot. I've made up my mind, said Wall. Been intending to go back north for some time, and now that I've started, I guess I'll keep on going. Splendid, cried Minot. And you'll take Mr. George Harrowby with you? Mr. Wall seemed in excellent spirits. He slapped Minot on the back. If you say so, of course. Don't know exactly what they can do to us— but I think George needs the sea air. How about it, your lordship? Poor old George, drooping as he had never drooped before, looked wearily into Wall's eyes. What's the use? he said. Fight's all gone out of me. Losing interest in what's next. Three hours on that blooming ocean with the rain soaking in— I'm going to bed. I don't care what becomes of me. And he sloshed away to his cabin.
  • 23. Well, boys, I'm afraid we'll have to put you off, said Martin Wall. Glad to have met both of you. Sometime in New York we may run into each other again. He shook hands genially, and the two young men dropped once more into that unhappy launch. As they sped toward the shore the Lileth, behind them, was heading for the open sea. Sorry if I've seemed to have a grouch to-night, said Paddock, as they walked up the deserted avenue toward the hotel. But these Florida rain- storms aren't the pleasantest things to wear next to one's skin. I apologize, Dick. Nonsense, Minot answered. Old Job himself would have frowned a bit if he'd been through what you have to-night. It was my fault for getting you into it— Forget it, Paddock said. Well, it looks like a wedding, old man. The letters home again, and George Harrowby headed for New York—a three days' trip. Nothing to hinder now. Have you thought of that? I don't want to think, said Minot gloomily. Good night, old man. Paddock sped up the stairs to his room, which was on the second floor, and Minot turned toward the elevator. At that moment he saw approaching him through the deserted lobby Mr. Jim O'Malley, the house detective of the De la Pax. Can we see you a minute in the office, Mr. Minot? he asked. Certainly, Minot answered. But—I'm soaked through—was out in all that rain— Too bad, said O'Malley, with a sympathetic glance. We won't keep you but a minute— He led the way, and wondering, Minot followed. In the tiny office of the hotel manager a bullet-headed man stood waiting.
  • 24. My friend, Mr. Huntley, of the Secret Service, O'Malley explained. Awful sorry that this should happen. Mr. Minot but—we got to search you. Search me—for what? Minot cried. And in a flash, he knew. Through that wild night he had not once thought of it. But it was still in his inside coat pocket, of course. Chain Lightning's Collar! What does this mean? he asked. That's what they all say, grunted Huntley. Come here, my boy. Say, you're pretty wet. And shivering! Better have a warm bath and a drink. Turn around, please. Ah— With practised fingers the detective explored rapidly Mr. Minot's person and pockets. The victim of the search stood limp, helpless. What could he do? There was no escape. It was all up now—for whatever reason they desired Chain Lightning's Collar, they could not fail to have it in another minute. Side pockets—trousers pockets—now! The inner coat pocket! Its contents were in the detective's hand. Minot stared down. A little gasp escaped him. The envelope that held Chain Lightning's Collar was not among them! Two minutes longer Huntley pursued, then with an oath of disappointment he turned to O'Malley. Hasn't got it! he announced. Minot swept aside the profuse apologies of the hotel detective, and somehow got out of the room. In a daze, he sought 389. He didn't have it! Didn't have Chain Lightning's Collar! Who did? It was while he sat steaming in a hot bath that an idea came to him. The struggle on the deck of the Lileth, with Martin Wall panting at his side! The
  • 25. tug on his coat as they all went down together. The genial spirits of Wall thereafter. The sudden start for New York. No question about it—Chain Lightning's Collar was well out at sea now. And yet—why had Wall stopped to take the occupants of the launch aboard? After his bath, Minot donned pajamas and a dressing-gown and ventured out to find Lord Harrowby's suite. With difficulty he succeeded in arousing the sleeping peer. Harrowby let him in, and then sat down on his bed and stared at him. What is it? he inquired sleepily. Briefly Minot told him of the circumstances preceding the start of the Lileth for New York, of his return to the hotel, and the search party he encountered there. Harrowby was very wide awake by this time. That finishes us, he groaned. Wait a minute, Minot said. They didn't find the necklace. I didn't have it. I'd lost it. Lost it? Yes. And if you want my opinion, I think Martin Wall stole it from me on the Lileth and is now on his way— Harrowby leaped from bed, and seized Minot gleefully by the hand. Dear old chap. What the deuce do I care who took it. It's gone. Thank God—it's gone. But—I don't understand— No. But you can understand this much. Everything's all right. Nothing in the way of the wedding now. It's splendid! Splendid!
  • 26. But—the necklace was stolen— Yes. Good! Very good! My dear Minot, the luckiest thing that can happen to us will be—never, never to see Chain Lightning's Collar again! As completely at sea as he had been that night—which was more or less at sea—Minot returned to his room. It was after three o'clock. He turned out his lights and sought his bed. Many wild conjectures kept him awake at first, but this had been the busiest day of his life. Soon he slept, and dreamed thrilling dreams. The sun was bright outside his windows when he was aroused by a knock. What is it? he cried. A package for you, sir, said a bell-boy voice. He slipped one arm outside his door to receive it—a neat little bundle, securely tied, with his name written on the wrappings. Sleepily he undid the cord, and took out—an envelope. He was no longer sleepy. He held the envelope open over his bed. Chain Lightning's Collar tumbled, gleaming, upon the white sheet! Also in the package was a note, which Minot read breathlessly. DEAR MR. MINOT: I have decided not to go north after all, and am back in the harbor with the Lileth. As I expect Trimmer at any moment I have sent George over to Tarragona Island in charge of two sailormen for the day. Cordially, MARTIN WALL. P.S. You dropped the enclosed in the scuffle on the boat last night.
  • 27. CHAPTER XIV JERSEY CITY INTERFERES At ten o'clock that Saturday morning Lord Harrowby was engrossed in the ceremony of breakfast in his rooms. For the occasion he wore an orange and purple dressing-gown with a floral design no botanist could have sanctioned—the sort of dressing-gown that Arnold Bennett, had he seen it, would have made a leading character in a novel. He was cheerful, was Harrowby, and as he glanced through an old copy of the London Times he made strange noises in his throat, under the impression that he was humming a musical comedy chorus. There was a knock, and Harrowby cried: Come in. Mr. Minot, fresh as the morning and nowhere near so hot, entered. Feeling pretty satisfied with life, I'll wager, Minot suggested. My dear chap, gay as—as—a robin, Harrowby replied. Snatch your last giggle, said Minot. Have one final laugh, and make it a good one. Then wake up. Wake up? Why, I am awake— Oh, no—you're dreaming on a bed of roses. Listen! Martin Wall didn't go north with the impostor after all. Changed his mind. Look! And Minot tossed something on the table, just abaft his lordship's eggs. The devil! Chain Lightning's Collar! cried Harrowby. Back to its original storage vault, said Minot. What is this, Harrowby? A Drury Lane melodrama?
  • 28. My word. I can't make it out. Can't you? Got the necklace back this morning with a note from Martin Wall, saying I dropped it last night in the scrap on the deck of the Lileth. Confound the thing! sighed Harrowby, staring morosely at the diamonds. My first impulse, said Minot, is to hand the necklace back to you and gracefully withdraw. But of course I'm here to look after Jephson's interests — Naturally, put in Harrowby quickly. And let me tell you that should this necklace be found before the wedding, Jephson is practically certain to pay that policy. I think you'd better keep it. They're not likely to search you again. If I took it—dear old chap—they search me every little while. You didn't steal this, did you? Minot asked. Of course not. Harrowby flushed a delicate pink. It belongs in our family—has for years. Everybody knows that. Well, what is the trouble? I'll explain it all later. There's really nothing dishonorable—as men of the world look at such things. I give you my word that you can serve Mr. Jephson best by keeping the necklace for the present—and seeing to it that it does not fall into the hands of the men who are looking for it. Minot sat staring gloomily ahead of him. Then he reached out, took up the necklace, and restored it to his pocket. Oh, very well, he said. If I'm sent to jail, tell Thacker I went singing an epithalamium. He rose. By the way, Harrowby remarked, I'm giving a little dinner to-night— at the Manhattan Club. May I count on you? Surely, Minot smiled. I'll be there, wearing our necklace.
  • 29. My dear fellow—ah, I see you mean it pleasantly. Wear it, by all means. Minot passed from the eccentric blooms of that dressing-gown to the more authentic flowers of the Florida outdoors. In the plaza he met Cynthia Meyrick, rival candidate to the morning in its glory. Matrimony, she said, is more trouble than it seems on a moonlit night under the palms. I've never been so busy in my life. By the way, two of my bridesmaids arrived from New York last night. Lovely girls—both of them. But I forget! Forget what? Your young heart is already ensnared, isn't it? Yes, replied Minot fervently. It is. But no matter. Tell me about your preparations for the wedding. I should like to enjoy the thrill of it—by proxy. How like a man—wants all the thrill and none of the bother. It's dreadfully hard staging a wedding, way down here a thousand miles from everything. But—my gown came last night from Paris. Can you imagine the thrill of that! Only faintly. How stupid being a man must be. And how glorious being a girl, with man only an afterthought—even at wedding time. Poor Harrowby! He keeps in the lime-light fairly well, however. They walked along a moment in silence. I've wondered, she said at length. Why did you kidnap—Mr. Trimmer's—friend? Because— Yes?—eagerly.
  • 30. Minot looked at her, and something rose in his throat to choke him. I can't tell you, he said. It is the fault of—the Master of the Show. I'm only the pawn—the baffled, raging, unhappy little pawn. That's all I can tell you. You—you were speaking of your wedding gown? A present from Aunt Mary, she answered, a strange tenderness in her tone. For a good little girl who's caught a lord. A charming little girl, said Minot softly. May I say that? Yes— Her brown eyes glowed. I'm—glad—to have you—say it. I go in here. Good-by—Mr. Kidnaper. She disappeared into a shop, and Minot walked slowly down the street. Girls from Peoria and Paris, from Boise City and London, passed by. Girls chaperoned and girls alone—tourist girls in swarms. And not a few of them wondered why such a good-looking young man should appear to be so sorry for himself. Returning to the hotel at noon, Minot met Martin Wall on the veranda. Lucky I put old George on Tarragona for the day, Wall confided. As I expected, Trimmer was out to call early this morning. Searched the ship from stem to stern. I rather think we have Mr. Trimmer up a tree. He went away not quite so sure of himself. Good, Minot answered. So you changed your mind about going north? Yes. Think I'll stay over for the wedding. By the way, wasn't that Chain Lightning's Collar you left behind you last night? Y—yes. Thought so. You ought to be more careful. People might suspect you of being the thief at Mrs. Bruce's. If you think that, I wish you'd speak to his lordship.
  • 31. I have. Your innocence is established. And I've promised Harrowby to keep his little mystery dark. You're very kind, said Minot, and went on into the hotel. The remainder of the day passed lazily. Dick Minot felt lost indeed, for seemingly there were no more doughty deeds to be done in the name of Jephson. The Gaiety lady was gone; her letters were in the hands of the man who had written them. The claimant to the title languished among the alligators of Tarragona, a prisoner. Trimmer appeared to be baffled. Bridesmaids arrived. The wedding gown appeared. It looked like smooth sailing now. Jack Paddock, met for a moment late in the afternoon, announced airily: By the way, the Duke and Duchess of Lismore have come. You know— the sausage lady and her captive. My word—you should see her! A wardrobe to draw tears of envy from a theatrical star. Fifty costly necklaces —and only one neck! Tragic, smiled Minot. Funny thing's happened, Paddock whispered. I met the duchess once abroad. She sent for me this noon and almost bowled me over. Seems she's heard of Mrs. Bruce as the wittiest woman in San Marco. And she's jealous. 'You're a clever boy,' says her ladyship to me. 'Coach me up so I can outshine Mrs. Bruce.' What do you know? Ah—but you were the pioneer, Minot reminded him. Well, I was, for that matter, said Mr. Paddock. But I know now it wasn't a clever idea, if this woman can think of it, too. What did you tell her? I was shocked. I showed it. It seemed deception to me. Still—she made me an offer that—well, I told her I'd think it over. Good heavens, Jack! You wouldn't try to sell 'em both dialogue?
  • 32. Why not? Play one against the other—make 'em keener for my goods. I've got a notion to clean up here quick and then go back to the real stuff. That little girl from the Middle West—I've forgot all about her, of course. But speaking of cleaning up—I'm thinking of it, Dick, my boy. Yes, I believe I'll take them both on—secretly, of course. It means hard work for me, but when one loves one's art, no service seems too tough. You're hopeless, Minot groaned. Say not so, laughed Paddock, and went away humming a frivolous tune. At a quarter before seven, for the first time, Minot entered Mr. Tom Stacy's Manhattan Club and Grill. To any one who crossed Mr. Stacy's threshold with the expectation of immediately encountering lights and gaiety, the first view of the interior came as a distinct shock. The main dining-room of the Manhattan Club was dim with the holy dimness of a cathedral. Its lamps, hung high, were buried in oriental trappings, and shone half-heartedly. Faintly through the gloom could be discerned white table- cloths, gleaming silver. The scene demanded hushed voices, noiseless footsteps. It got both. The main dining-room was hollowed out of the center of the great stone building, and its roof was off in the dark three stories above. On each side of the entrance, stairways led to second and third-floor balconies which stretched around the room on three sides. From these balconies doors opened into innumerable rooms—rooms where lights shone brighter, and from which the chief of police, when he came to make certain financial arrangements with Mr. Stacy, heard frequently a gentle click-click. It may have been that the furnishings of the main dining-room and the balconies were there before Mr. Stacy's coming, or again they may have set forth his own idea of suitable decoration. Looking about him, Mr. Minot was reminded of a play like Sumurun after three hard seasons on the road. Moth-eaten rugs and musty tapestries hung everywhere. Here and there an atrocious cozy corner belied its name. Iron lanterns gave parsimonious light. Aged sofa-pillows lay limply. Oriental, Mr. Stacy would have called the effect. Here in this dim, but scarcely religious light, the patrons of his
  • 33. grill ate their food, being not without misgivings as they stared through the gloom at their plates. The long tables for the Harrowby dinner were already set, and about them hovered waiters of a color to match the room. Most of the guests had arrived. Mr. Paddock made it a point to introduce Mr. Minot at once to the Duchess of Lismore. This noble lady with the packing-house past was making a commendable effort to lighten the Manhattan Club by a wonderful display of jewels. Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, when a new planet swims into his ken, whispered Minot, as the duchess moved away. Paddock laughed. A dowdy little woman by day, but a pillar of fire by night, he agreed. By the way, I'm foreman of her composing-room, beginning to-morrow. Be careful, Jack, Minot warned. A double life from now on, Paddock replied, but I think I can get away with it. Say, for ways that are dark this man Stacy seems to hold a better hand than the heathen Chinee. In one corner the portly Spencer Meyrick was orating to a circle of young people on the evils of gambling. Minot turned away, smiling cynically. Meyrick, as everybody knew, had made a large part of his fortune in Wall Street. The dinner was much larger than Mrs. Bruce's. Minot met a number of new people—the anemic husband of the jewels, smug in his dukedom, and several very attractive girls thrilled at being present in Mr. Stacy's sinful lair. He bestowed a smile upon Aunt Mary, serene among the best people, and discussed with Mrs. Bruce—who wasted no boughten wit on him—the Florida climate. Also, he asked the elder of the Omaha girls if she had heard of Mr. Nat Goodwin's latest wife.
  • 34. For once the dinner itself was a minor event. It sped rapidly there in the gloom, and few so much as listened to the flashes of Mrs. Bruce's wit—save perhaps the duchess, enviously. It was after the dinner, when Harrowby led his guests to the entertainment above, that interest grew tense. No gloom in that bright room overhead. A cluster of electric lights shed their brilliance on Mr. Stacy's pet roulette tables, set amid parlor furnishings of atrocious plush. From one corner a faro lay-out that had once flourished on Fifty-eighth Street, New York, beckoned. And on each side, through open doors, might be seen rooms furnished for the game of poker. Mr. Stacy's assistant, a polished gentleman with a face like aged ivory, presided over the roulette table. He swung the wheel a few times, an inviting smile on his face. Harrowby, his eyes bright, laid a sum of money beside a row of innocent figures. He won. He tried again, and won. Some of the young women pushed close to the table, visibly affected. Others pretended this sort of thing was an old story to them. A few of the more adventurous women borrowed coins from the men, and joined in the play. Arguments and misunderstandings arose, which Mr. Stacy's assistant urbanely settled. More of the men—Paddock among them —laid money on the table. A buzz of excited conversation, punctuated now and then by a deathly silence as the wheel spun and the little ball hovered heart-breakingly, filled the room. Cheeks glowed red, eyes sparkled, the crush about the table increased. Spencer Meyrick himself risked from his endless store. Mr. Tom Stacy's place was in full swing. Dick Minot caught Cynthia Meyrick's glance as she stood close beside Lord Harrowby. She seemed another girl to-night, grave rather than gay, her great brown eyes apparently looking into the future, wondering, fearing. As for Harrowby, he was a man transformed. Not for nothing was he the son of the sporting Earl of Raybrook—the peer who never failed to take a risk. The excitement of the game was reflected in his tall tense figure, his flaming cheeks. This was the Harrowby who had made Jephson that gambling proposition on a seventeenth floor in New York.
  • 35. And Harrowby won consistently. Won, until a fatal choice of numbers with an overwhelming stake left him poor again, and he saw all his winnings swept to swell Tom Stacy's store. Quickly he wormed his way out of the crowd and sought Minot. May I see you a moment? he asked. Out here. And he led the way to the gloom of the balcony. If I only had the cash, Harrowby whispered excitedly, I could break Stacy to-night. And I'm going to get it. Will you give me the necklace, please. You forget, Minot objected, that the necklace is supposed to have been stolen. No. No. That's no matter. I'll arrange that. Hurry— You forget, too, that you told me this morning that should this necklace be found now— Mr. Minot—the necklace belongs to me. Will you kindly let me have it. Certainly, said Minot coldly. And, much annoyed, he returned to the room amid the buzz and the thrill of gambling. Harrowby ran quickly down the stairs. In the office of the club he found Tom Stacy in amiable converse with Martin Wall. He threw Chain Lightning's Collar on the manager's desk. How much can you loan me on that? he demanded. With a grunt of surprise, Mr. Stacy took up the famous collar in his thick fingers. He gazed at it for a moment. Then he looked up, and caught Martin Wall's crafty eye over Harrowby's shoulder. Not a cent, said Mr. Stacy firmly.
  • 36. What! I don't understand. Harrowby gazed at him blankly. It's worth — Not a cent, Stacy repeated. That's final. Harrowby turned appealingly to Martin Wall. You— he pleaded. I'm not investing, Wall replied, with a queer smile. Lord Harrowby restored the necklace to his pocket and, crestfallen, gloomy, went back to the room above. Wouldn't loan me anything on it, he whispered to Minot. I don't understand, really. Thereafter Harrowby suffered the pain of watching others play. And while he watched, in the little office down-stairs, a scene of vital bearing on his future was enacted. A short stocky man with a bullet-shaped head had pushed open the door on Messrs. Stacy and Wall. He stood, looking about him with a cynical smile. Hello, Tom, he said. Old Bill Huntley! cried Stacy. By gad, you gave me a turn. I forgot for a minute that you can't raid me down here. Them happy days is past, returned Mr. Huntley dryly. I'm working for Uncle Sam, now, Tom. Got new fish to fry. Used to have some gay times in New York, didn't we? Oh, hello, Craig! My name is Martin Wall, said that gentleman stiffly. Ain't he got the lovely manners, said Huntley, pretending admiration. Always did have, too. And the swell friends. Still going round in the caviar crowd, I hear. What if I was to tell your friends here who you are?
  • 37. You won't do that, said Wall, outwardly unshaken, but his breath came faster. Oh—you're sure of that, are you? Yes. Who I am isn't one of your worries in your new line of business. And you're going to keep still because I can do you a favor—and I will. Thanks, Craig. Excuse me—Martin Wall. Sort of a strain keeping track of your names, you know. Forget that. I say I can do you a favor—if you'll promise not to mix in my affairs. Well—what is it? You're down here looking for a diamond necklace known as Chain Lightning's Collar. Great little guesser, you are. Well—what about it? Promise? You deliver the goods, and I'll see. All right. You'll find that necklace in Lord Harrowby's pocket right now. And you'll find Lord Harrowby in a room up-stairs. Mr. Huntley stood for a moment staring at the man he called Craig. Then with a grunt he turned away. Two minutes later, in the bright room above, that same rather vulgar grunt sounded in Lord Harrowby's patrician ear. He turned, and his face paled. Hopelessly he looked toward Minot. Then without a word he followed Huntley from the room. Only two of that excited crowd about the wheel noticed. And these two fled simultaneously to the balcony. There, half hidden behind an ancient musty rug, Cynthia Meyrick and Minot watched together.
  • 38. Harrowby and Huntley descended the soft stairs. At the bottom, Martin Wall and Stacy were waiting. The sound of voices pitched low could be heard on the balcony, but though they strained to hear, the pair above could not. However, they could see the plebeian hand of Mr. Huntley held out to Lord Harrowby. They could see Harrowby reach into his pocket, and bring forth a white envelope. Next they beheld Chain Lightning's Collar gleam in the dusk as Huntley held it up. A few low words, and Harrowby went out with the detective. Martin Wall ascended the stair. On the dim balcony he was confronted by a white-faced girl whose wonderful copper hair had once held Chain Lightning's Collar. What does it mean? she asked, her voice low and tense. Mean? Martin Wall laughed. It means that Lord Harrowby must go north and face a United States Commissioner in Jersey City. It seems that when he brought that necklace over he quite forgot to tell the customs officials about it. Go north! When? To-night. On the midnight train. North to Jersey City. Mr. Wall went into the bright room where the excitement buzzed on, oblivious. Cynthia Meyrick turned to Minot. But he can't possibly get back— she cried. No. He can't get back. I'm sorry. And my wedding dress—came last night. She stood clutching a moth-eaten tapestry in her slim white hand. In the gloom of that dull old balcony her eyes shone strangely. Some things aren't to be, she whispered. And—very faintly—others are.
  • 39. A thrill shot through Minot, sharp as a pain, but glorious. What did she mean by that? What indeed but the one thing that must not happen—the thing he wanted most of all things in the world to happen—the thing he had come to San Marco to prevent. He came closer to her—and closer—the blood was pounding in his brain. Dazed, exulting, he held out his arms. Cynthia! he cried. And then suddenly behind her, on the stairs, he caught sight of a great bald head ascending through the dusk. It was an ordinary bald head, the property of Mr. Stacy in fact, but to Minot a certain Jephson seemed to be moving beneath it He remembered. His arms fell to his sides. He turned away. We must see what can be done, he said mechanically. Yes, Cynthia Meyrick agreed in an odd tone, we must see what can be done. And a tear, unnoticed, fell on Mr. Stacy's aged oriental tapestry. CHAPTER XV A BIT OF A BLOW Miss Meyrick turned back toward the room of chance to find her father. Minot, meanwhile, ran down the steps, obtained his hat and coat, and hurried across the street to the hotel. He went at once to Harrowby's rooms. There he encountered a scene of wild disorder. The round-faced valet was packing trunks against time, and his time-keeper, Mr. Bill Huntley, sat in a corner, grim and silent, watch in hand. Lord Harrowby paced the floor madly. When he saw Minot he held out his long, lean, helpless hands.
  • 40. You've heard, old boy? he said. Yes, I've heard, said Minot sharply. A fine fix, Harrowby. Why the deuce didn't you pay the duty on that necklace? Dear boy! Was saving every cent I had for—you know what. Besides, I heard of such a clever scheme for slipping it in— Never mind that! Mr. Huntley, this gentleman was to have been married on Tuesday. Can't you hold off until then? Nothing doing, said Mr. Huntley firmly. I got to get back to New York. He'll have to postpone his wedding. Ought to have thought of these things before he pulled off his little stunt. It's no use, Minot, said Harrowby hopelessly. I've gone all over it with this chap. He won't listen to reason. What the deuce am I to do? A knock sounded on the door and Spencer Meyrick, red-faced, flirting with apoplexy, strode into the room. Lord Harrowby, he announced, I desire to see you alone. Er—step into the bedroom, Harrowby suggested. Mr. Huntley rose promptly to his feet. Nix, he said. There's a door out of that room leading into the hall. If you go in there, I go, too. Mr. Meyrick glared. Harrowby stood embarrassed. Very well, said Meyrick through his teeth. We'll stay here. It doesn't matter to me. I simply want to say, Lord Harrowby, that when you get to Jersey City you needn't trouble to come back, as far as my family is concerned. A look of pain came into Harrowby's thin face.
  • 41. Not come back, he said. My dear sir— That's what I said. I'm a plain man, Harrowby. A plain American. It doesn't seem to me that marrying into the British nobility is worth all the trouble it's costing us— But really— It may be, but it doesn't look that way to me. I prefer a simple wedding to a series of vaudeville acts. If you think I'm going to stand for the publicity of this latest affair, you're mistaken. I've talked matters over with Cynthia—the marriage is off—for good! But my dear sir, Cynthia and I are very fond of each other— I don't give a damn if you are! Meyrick fumed. This is the last straw. I'm through with you. Good night, and good-by. He stamped out as he had come, and Lord Harrowby fell limply into a chair. All over, and all done, he moaned. And Jephson loses, said Minot with mixed emotions. Yes—I'm sorry. Harrowby shook his head tragically. Sorrier than you are, old chap. I love Cynthia Meyrick—really I do. This is a bit of a blow. Come, come! cried Mr. Huntley. I'm not going to miss that train while you play-act. We've only got half an hour, now. Harrowby rose unhappily and went into the inner room, Huntley at his heels. Minot sat, his unseeing eyes gazing down at the old copy of the London Times which Harrowby had been reading that morning at breakfast. Gradually, despite his preoccupation, a name in a head-line forced itself to his attention. Courtney Giles. Where had he heard that name before? He picked up the Times from the table on which it was lying. He read:
  • 42. The Ardent Lover, the new romantic comedy in which Courtney Giles has appeared briefly at the West End Road Theater, will be removed from the boards to-night. The public has not been appreciative. If truth must be told—and bitter truth it is—the once beloved matinée idol has become too fat to hold his old admirers, and they have drifted steadily to other, slimmer gods. Mr. Giles' early retirement from the stage is rumored. Minot threw down the paper. Poor old Jephson! First the rain on the dowager duchess, then an actor's expanding waist—and to-morrow the news that Harrowby's wedding was not to be. Why, it would ruin the man! Minot stepped to the door of the inner room. I'm going out to think, he announced. I'll see you in the lobby before you leave. Two minutes later, in the summer-house where he had bid good-by to the sparkling Gaiety lady, he sat puffing furiously at a cigar. Back into the past as it concerned Chain Lightning's Collar he went. That night when Cynthia Meyrick had worn it in her hair, and Harrowby, hearing of the search for it —had snatched it in the dark. His own guardianship of the valuable trinket —Martin Wall's invasion of his rooms—the dropping of the jewels on shipboard, and the return of them by Mr. Wall next morning. And last, but not least, Mr. Stacy's firm refusal to loan money on the necklace that very night. All these things Minot pondered. Meanwhile Harrowby, having finished his packing, descended to the lobby of the De la Pax. In a certain pink parlor he found Cynthia Meyrick, and stood gazing helplessly into her eyes. Cynthia—your father said—is it true? It's true, Allan. You too wish the wedding—indefinitely postponed?
  • 43. Father thinks it best— But you? He came closer. You, Cynthia? I—I don't know. There has been so much trouble, Allan— I know. And I'm fearfully sorry about this latest. But, Cynthia—you mustn't send me away—I love you. Do you doubt that? No, Allan. You're the most wonderful girl who has ever come into my life—I want you in it always—beside me— At any rate, Allan, a wedding next Tuesday is impossible now. Yes, I'm afraid it is. And after that— After that—I don't know, Allan. Aunt Mary came into the room, distress written plainly in her plump face. No misstep of the peerage was beyond Aunt Mary's forgiveness. She took Harrowby's hand. I'm so sorry, your lordship, she said. Most unfortunate. But I'm sure it will all be cleared away in time— Mr. Huntley made it a point to interrupt. He stood at the door, watch in hand. Come on, he said. We've got to start. Harrowby followed the ladies from the room. In the lobby Spencer Meyrick joined them. His lordship shook hands with Aunt Mary, with Mr. Meyrick—then he turned to the girl. Good-by, Cynthia, he said unhappily. He took her slim white hand in his. Then he turned quickly and started with Huntley for the door.
  • 44. It was at this point that Mr. Minot, his cigar and his cogitations finished, entered upon the scene. Just a minute, he said to Mr. Huntley. Not another minute, remarked Huntley with decision. Not for the King of England himself. We got just fifteen of 'em left to catch that train, and if I know San Marco hackmen— You've got time to answer one or two questions. Impressed by Minot's tone, the Meyrick family moved nearer. There's no doubt, is there, Mr. Huntley, that the necklace you have in your pocket is the one Lord Harrowby brought from England? Of course not. Now, get out of the way— Are you a good judge of jewels, Mr. Huntley? Well, I've got a little reputation in that line. But say— Then I suggest, said Minot impressively, that you examine Chain Lightning's Collar closely. Thanks for the suggestion, sneered Mr. Huntley. I'll follow it—when I get time. Just now I've got to— You'd better follow it now—before you catch a train. Otherwise you may be so unfortunate as to make a fool of yourself. Mr. Huntley stood, hesitating. There was something in Minot's tone that rang true. The detective again looked at his watch. Then, with one of his celebrated grunts, he pulled out the necklace, and stood staring at it with a new expression. He grunted again, and stepped to a near-by writing-desk, above which hung a powerful electric light. The others followed. Mr. Huntley laid the necklace on the desk, and took out a small microscope which was attached to one end of his watch-chain. With rapt gaze he stared at the largest of the diamonds. He went the length of the string, examining each stone in turn.
  • 45. The expression on Mr. Huntley's face would have made him a star in the movies. Hell! he cried, and threw Chain Lightning's Collar down on the desk. What's the matter? Mr. Minot smiled. Glass, snarled Huntley. Fine old bottle glass. What do you know about that? But really—it can't be— put in Harrowby. Well it is, Mr. Huntley glared at him. The inspector might have known you moth-eaten noblemen ain't got any of the real stuff left. I won't believe it— Harrowby began, but caught Minot's eye. It's true, just the same, Minot said. By the way, Mr. Huntley, how much is that little ornament worth? About nine dollars and twenty-five cents. Mr. Huntley still glared angrily. Well—you can't take Lord Harrowby back for not declaring that, can you? No, snorted Huntley. But I can go back myself, and I'm going—on that midnight train. Good-by. Minot followed him to the door. Aren't you going to thank me? he asked. You know, I saved you— Thank you! Hell! said Huntley, and disappeared into the dark. When Minot returned he found Harrowby standing facing the Meyricks, and holding the necklace in his hand as though it were a bomb on the point of exploding.
  • 46. I say, I feel rather low, he was saying, when I remember that I made you a present of this thing, Cynthia. But on my honor, I didn't know. And I can scarcely believe it now. I know the governor has been financially embarrassed—but I never suspected him of this—the associations were so dear—really— It may not have been your father who duplicated Chain Lightning's Collar with a fake, Minot suggested. My word, old boy, who then? You remember, said Minot, addressing the Meyricks, that the necklace was stolen recently. Well—it was returned to Lord Harrowby under unusual circumstances. At least, this collection of glass was returned. My theory is that the thief had a duplicate made—an old trick. The very idea, Harrowby cried. I say, Minot, you are clever. I should never have thought of that. Thanks, said Minot dryly. He sought to avoid Miss Cynthia Meyrick's eyes. Er—by the way, said Harrowby, looking at Spencer Meyrick. There is nothing to prevent the wedding now. The old man shrugged his shoulders. I leave that to my daughter, he said, and turned away. Cynthia? Harrowby pleaded. Miss Meyrick cast a strange look at Minot, standing forlorn before her. And then she smiled—not very happily. There seems to be no reason for changing our plans, she said slowly. It would be a great disappointment to—so many people. Good night. Minot followed her to the elevator.
  • 47. It's as I told you this morning, he said miserably. I'm just one of the pawns in the hands of the Master of the Show. I can't explain— What is there to explain? the girl asked coldly. I congratulate you on a highly successful evening. The elevator door banged shut between them. Turning, Minot encountered Aunt Mary. You clever boy, she cried. We are all so very grateful to you. You have saved us from a very embarrassing situation. Please don't mention it, Minot replied, and he meant it. He sat down beside the dazed Harrowby on one of the lobby sofas. I'm all at sea, really, old chap, Harrowby confessed. But I must say—I admire you tremendously. How the devil did you know the necklace was a fraud? I didn't know—I guessed, said Minot. And the thing that led me to make that happy guess was Tom Stacy's refusal to loan you money on it to- night. Mr. Stacy is no fool. And you think that Martin Wall has the real Chain Lightning's Collar? It looks that way to me. There's only one thing against my theory. He didn't clear out when he had the chance. But he may be staying on to avert suspicion. We haven't any evidence to arrest him on—and if we did there'd be the customs people to deal with. If I were you I'd hire a private detective to watch Wall, and try to get the real necklace back without enlisting the arm of the law. Really, said Harrowby, things are happening so swiftly I'm at a loss to follow them. I am, old boy. First one obstacle and then another. You've been splendid, Minot, splendid. I want to thank you for all you have done. I thought to-night the wedding had gone glimmering. And I'm fond of Miss Meyrick. Tremendously.
  • 48. Don't thank me, Minot replied. I'm not doing it for you—we both know that. I'm protecting Jephson's money. In a few days, wedding-bells. And then me back to New York, shouting never again on the Cupid act. If I'm ever roped into another job like this— It has been a trying position for you, Harrowby said sympathetically. And you've done nobly. I'm sure your troubles are all out of the way now. With the necklace worry gone— He paused. For across the lobby toward them walked Henry Trimmer, and his walk was that of a man who is going somewhere. Ah—Mister Harrowby, he boomed, and Mr. Minot I've been looking for you both. It will interest you to know that I had a wireless message from Lord Harrowby this noon. A wireless? cried Minot. Yes. Trimmer laughed. Not such a fool as you think him, Lord Harrowby isn't. Managed to send me a wireless from Tarragona despite the attentions of your friends. So I went out there this afternoon and brought George back with me. Silently Minot and Harrowby stared at each other. Yes, Mr. Trimmer went on, George is back again—back under the direction of little me, a publicity man with no grass under the feet. I've come to give you gentlemen your choice. You either see Lord Harrowby to- morrow morning at ten o'clock and recognize his claims, or I'll have you both thrown into jail for kidnaping. To-morrow morning at ten, Harrowby repeated gloomily. That's what I said, replied Mr. Trimmer blithely. How about it, little brother? Minot—what would you advise? See him, sighed Minot.
  • 49. Very well. Harrowby's tone was resigned. I presume I'd better. Ah—coming to your senses, aren't you? said Trimmer. I hope we aren't spoiling the joyous wedding-day. But then, what I say is, if the girl's marrying you just for the title— Harrowby leaped to his feet You haven't been asked for an opinion, he said. No, of course not. Don't get excited. I'll see you both in the morning at ten. And Mr. Trimmer strolled elegantly away. Harrowby turned hopefully Jo Minot. At ten in the morning, he repeated. Old chap, what are we going to do at ten in the morning? I don't know, smiled Minot. But if past performances mean anything, we'll win. CHAPTER XVI WHO'S WHO IN ENGLAND What's the matter with you? Seated in the lobby of the De la Pax on Sunday morning, Mr. Trimmer turned a disapproving eye upon the lank Englishman at his side as he made this query. And his question was not without good foundation. For the aspirant to the title of Lord Harrowby was at the moment a jelly quaking with fear.
  • 50. Fawncy meeting you after all these years, said poor old George in an uncertain treble. Come, come, cried Mr. Trimmer, put a little more authority into your voice. You can't walk up and claim your rights with your knees dancing the tango. This is the moment we've been looking forward to. Act determined. Walk into that room up-stairs as though you were walking into Rakedale Hall to take charge of it. Allan, don't you know me—I'm your brother George, went on the Englishman, intent on rehearsing. More like it, said Trimmer. Put the fire into it. You're not expecting a thrashing, you know. You're expecting the title and recognition that belongs to you. I wish I was the real Lord Harrowby. I guess I'd show 'em a thing or two. I wish you was, agreed poor old George sadly. Somehow, I don't seem to have the spirit I used to have. A good point, commented Trimmer. Years of wrong and suffering have made you timid. I'll call that to their attention. Five minutes of ten, your lordship. His lordship groaned. All right, I'm ready, he said. What is it I say as I go in? Oh, yes— He stepped into the elevator—Fawncy seeing you after all these years. The negro elevator boy was somewhat startled at this greeting, but regained his composure and started the car. Mr. Trimmer and his proposition shot up toward their great opportunity. In Lord Harrowby's suite that gentleman sat in considerable nervousness, awaiting the undesired encounter. With him sat Miss Meyrick and her father, whom he had thought it necessary to invite to witness the ordeal. Mr. Richard Minot uneasily paced the floor, avoiding as much as possible the
  • 51. glances of Miss Meyrick's brown eyes. Ten o'clock was upon him, and Mr. Minot was no nearer a plan of action than he had been the preceding night. Every good press agent is not without a live theatrical sense, and Mr. Trimmer was no exception. He left his trembling claimant in the entrance hall and strode into the room. Good morning, he said brightly. Here we are, on time to the minute. Ah—I beg your pardon. Lord Harrowby performed brief introductions, which Mr. Trimmer effusively acknowledged. Then he turned dramatically toward his lordship. Out here in the hallway stands a poor broken creature, he began. Your own flesh and blood, Allan Harrowby. Obviously Mr. Trimmer had prepared speeches for himself as well as for poor old George. For twenty odd and impecunious years, he went on, this man has been denied his just heritage. We are here this morning to perform a duty— My dear fellow, broke in Harrowby wearily, why should you inflict oratory upon us? Bring in this—er—gentleman. That I will, replied Trimmer heartily. And when you have heard his story, digested his evidence, I am sure— Yes, yes. Bring him in. Mr. Trimmer stepped to the door. He beckoned. A very reluctant figure shuffled in. George's face was green with fright. His knees rattled together. He made, altogether, a ludicrous picture, and Mr. Trimmer himself noted this with sinking heart. Allow me, said Trimmer theatrically. George, Lord Harrowby. George cleared his throat, but did not succeed in dislodging his heart, which was there at the moment. Fawncy seeing you after all these years, he mumbled weakly, to no one in particular.
  • 52. Speak up, said Spencer Meyrick sharply. Who is it you're talking to? To him, explained George, nodding toward Lord Harrowby. To my brother Allan. Don't you know me, Allan? Don't you know— He stopped. An expression of surprise and relief swept over his worried face. He turned triumphantly to Trimmer. I don't have to prove who I am to him, he announced. Why don't you? demanded Trimmer in alarm. Because he can't, I fancy, put in Lord Harrowby. No, said George slowly, because I never saw him before in all my life. Ah—you admit it, cried Allan Harrowby with relief. Of course I do, replied George. I never saw you before in my life. And you've never been at Rakedale Hall, have you? Lord Harrowby demanded. Here—wait a minute— shouted Trimmer, in a panic. Oh, yes—I've been at Rakedale Hall, said the claimant firmly. I spent my boyhood there. But you've never been there. I—what— You've never been at Rakedale Hall. Why? Because you're not Allan Harrowby! That's why. A deathly silence fell. Only a little traveling clock on the mantel was articulate.
  • 53. Absurd—ridiculous— cried Lord Harrowby. Talk about impostors, cried George, his spirit and his courage sweeping back. You're one yourself. I wish I'd got a good look at you sooner, I'd have put a stop to all this. Allan Harrowby, eh? I guess not. I guess I'd know my own brother if I saw him. I guess I know the Harrowby features. I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town—you blooming fraud. The man's crazy, Allan Harrowby cried. Raving mad. He's an impostor—this is a trick of his— He looked helplessly around the circle. In every face he saw doubt, questioning. Good heavens—you're not going to listen to him? He's come here to prove that he's George Harrowby. Why doesn't he do it? I'll do it, said George sweetly, when I meet a real Harrowby. In the meantime, I give you twenty-four hours to get out of town. You'd better go. Victorious, George turned toward the door. Trimmer, lost between admiration and doubt, turned also. Take my advice, George proclaimed. Make him prove who he is. That's the important point now. What does it matter to you who I am? Nothing. But it matters a lot about him. Make him prove that he's Allan Harrowby. And, with the imperious manner that he should have adopted on entering the room, George Harrowby left it. Mr. Trimmer, eclipsed for once, trotted at his side. Say, cried Trimmer in the hall, is that on the level? Isn't he Allan Harrowby? I should say not, said George grandly. Doesn't look anything like Allan. Trimmer chortled in glee.
  • 54. Great stuff, he cried. I guess we tossed a bomb, eh? Now, we'll run him out of town. Oh, no, said George. We've done our work here. Let's go over to London now and see the pater. That we will, cried Trimmer. That we will. By gad, I'm proud of you to-day, Lord Harrowby. Inside Allan Harrowby's suite three pairs of questioning eyes were turned on that harassed nobleman. He fidgeted in his chair. I say, he pleaded. It's all his bluff, you know. Maybe, said old Spencer Meyrick, rising. But Harrowby—or whatever your name is—there's altogether too much three-ring circus about this wedding to suit me. My patience is exhausted, sir—clean exhausted. Things look queer to me—have right along. I'm more than inclined to believe what that fellow said. But my dear sir—that chap is a rank impostor. There wasn't a word of truth in what he said. Cynthia—you understand— Why, yes—I suppose so, the girl replied. You are Allan Harrowby, aren't you? My dear girl—of course I am. Nevertheless, said Spencer Meyrick with decision, I'm going to call the wedding off again. Some of your actions haven't made much of a hit with me. I'm going to call it off until you come to me and prove that you're Allan Harrowby—a lord in good and regular standing, with all dues paid. But—confound it, sir—a gentleman's word— Mr. Meyrick, put in Minot, may I be allowed to say that I consider your action hasty—
  • 55. And may I be allowed to ask what affair this is of yours? demanded Mr. Meyrick hotly. Father! cried Miss Meyrick. Please do not be harsh with Mr. Minot. His heart is absolutely set on my marriage with Lord Harrowby. Naturally he feels very badly over all this. Minot winced. Come, Cynthia, said Meyrick, moving toward the door. I've had enough of this play-acting. Remember, sir—the wedding is off—absolutely off—until you are able to establish your identity beyond question. And he and his daughter went out. Minot sat for a long time staring at Lord Harrowby. Finally he spoke. Say, Harrowby, he inquired, who the devil are you? His lordship sadly shook his head. You, too, Brutus, he sighed. Haven't I one friend left? I'm Allan Harrowby. Ask Jephson. If I weren't, that policy that's causing you so much trouble wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on. That's right, too. Well, admitting you're Harrowby, how are you going to prove it? I've an idea, Harrowby replied. Everything comes to him who waits. What is it? A very good friend of mine—an old Oxford friend—is attached to our embassy at Washington. He was planning to come down for the wedding. I'll telegraph him to board the next train. Good boy, said Minot. That's a regular idea. Better send the wire at once.