Never Victorious, Never Defeated/The Bridge Over the River Kwai/Minutes of the Last Meeting/Lily [antikvár]

PROLOGUE T iHE banquet honoring Cornelia deWitt Marshall and the one hundredth anniversary of the mighty Interstate Railroad Company was given in the main dining room of Philadelphia's oldest and most aristocratic private club. Scores of the largest stockholders, including the younger Jay Regan of New York and one or two of the Vanderbilts, not to mention all the directors and officers of the company, were present. At the head of the table, with his mother at his right hand, sat DeWitt Marshall, president of the company, his son Rufus next to him. (Rufus was only twenty-one, but as he would one day be president himself, it was considered proper that he sit beside his father.) It was well known that Cornelia deWitt Marshall had been, and still was, "the guiding genius of the company." There she sat in her thronelike gilt chair, and she was impressive. Even sitting, she towered over her neighbors. Seventy years old, and still full of immense vitality—Cornelia. A diamond necklace blazed about her throat; diamonds glittered in her ears, in her hair and on her fingers, and aU up and down both long white arms. It was a crude display, and the more tasteful of the guests commented on this to themselves. But then, Cornelia had never pretended to have taste. She was vulgar and raucous and coarse, and gloried in it all. She displayed her vulgarity as she displayed her diamonds: proudly, and with wicked humor. DeWitt, and his son Rufus, studied Cornelia tonight. Seeing the rapt faces about her, watching her gay gestures, her swift and glittering smile, hearing her uproarious laughter and the laughter which joined hers, Rufus shifted uneasily in his seat and after a moment's hesitation whispered, "Have you noticed. Father? There's something diabolical about Grandmother tonight. . . ." 7