A glimmer of hope

Atlas Shrugged – Day 043 – pp. 419-428

He explains briefly to Hank

“Do you know where all those fair share vultures have invested their profits from Rearden Metal?”

“No but — ”

“In d’Anconia Copper stock. Safely out of the way and out of the country.

And then Francisco suddenly gets confused about the time-space continuum. . .

“It’s too bad about those profiteers on Rearden Metal.. . . But accidents do happen in the world — . . . For instance, there was a fire at the d’Anconia ore docks in Valparaiso tomorrow morning, a fire that razed them to the ground along with half of the port structures. What time is it, Mr Rearden? On, did I mix my tenses. Tomorrow afternoon, there will be rock slide in the d’Anconia mines in Orano. . .”

Ahhhhhhhh.

Gettin’ all this Hank?

“. . .no, if this is key to you, no, don’t expect me to cheer you . . . “

But, he’s not doing anything wrong.

“Everything happened in the normal, explicable, justifiable course of plain incompetence. Incompetence isn’t supposed to be punished nowadays, is it?

No it is not, Francisco.

Oh, he’s not done.

To prove his point to Hank (and probably have a little fun in the meantime) he overhears two “businessmen” talking nearby. He raises his voice to Hank.

“You won’t grant me that loan Mr Rearden? It puts me in a terrible spot. I must get that money — I must raise it tonight — I must raise it before the Stock Exchange opens in the morning because otherwise –“

The two “businessmen” were on him for information like a cheap suit. Francisco plays them like a master. Things are going wrong. But they must tell no one.

And off they go to telephone their brokers who aren’t even in their offices. And as the panic spread, three individuals stood watching the rush to the doors:

“Dagny looking at Francisco — Francisco and Rearden looking at each other.”

Chapter III — White Blackmail. (What the hell does this mean?)

Lillian tells Hank she’s taking the train home. On the way, she slams Francisco for what he did at the party. Or at least what she thinks he did.

He accompanies her in the cab to the train station. She waves him off.

“No no, you don’t have to get out, drive on back. Will you be home for dinner tomorrow — or next month?”

Next stop, Dagny’s apartment. That didn’t take long.

He apologizes for bringing Lillian into her presence. It must have hurt. Of course it didn’t hurt her, but her seeing the way he suffered . . .

“I don’t think that suffering makes of up anything, but whatever I felt, I didn’t suffer enough.”

He’s still whipping himself.

Then they begin to talk about Francisco.

“I saw you talking to him. Which one of you was insulting the other, this time?”

“We weren’t. Dagny, what do you think of him?”

“I think that he’s done it intentionally — that smash-up we’re in for, tomorrow.”

“I know he has. Still, what do you think of him as a person?”

“I don’t know. (Yes you do. . .) I ought to think that he’s the most depraved person I’ve ever met.”

“You ought to? But you don’t?”

“No. I can’t quite make myself reel certain of it.”

He smiled, “That’s what’s strange about him. I know that he’s a liar, a loafer, a cheap playboy, the most viciously irresponsible wast of a human being I ever imagined possible. Yet when I look at him ,I feel that if ever there was a man to whom I would entrust my life, he’s the one.”

She gasped. “Hank, are you saying that you like him?”

“I’m saying that I didn’t know what it meant to like a man, I didn’t know how much I missed it — until I met him”

“Good God, Hank, you’ve fallen for him!”

Now this is awkward. I suppose that in 1950s talk this is all innocent and above board. Not like Spartacus stuff. Apparently Dagny’s not worried about the whole homo-erotic revelation. She’s more concerned that Francisco’s screwing around will bring the wrath of Jim and Orrin and the rest of the Washington looters down on them . . . the last two honest folks. It gives her a feeling of dread.

Not Hank.

“That’s the feeling I lose when I speak to him. The strange thing is what he does make me feel.”

“What?”

“Hope.”

The next morning Hank is making his way back to his hotel suite.

He turned the key in the door of his hotel suite, hoping to get back to a desk as fast as possible an have to see nothing around him.

They hit his consciousness together: the breakfast table — the door to his bedroom, open upon the sight of a bed that had been slept in– and Lillian’s voice saying “Good morning, Henry.”

Cue that ominous music. . .