The Air Trust | Page 2

in the great building he had reared on Wall
Street. From his thin lips now and then issued a coil of smoke from the
costly cigar he was consuming. His bony legs were crossed, and one
foot twitched impatiently. Now and again he tugged at his white
mustache. A frown creased his hard brow; and, as he pondered,
something of the glitter of a snake seemed reflected in his pupils.
"Not enough," he muttered, harshly. "It's not enough--there must be
more, more, more! Some way must be found. Must be, and shall be!"
The sunlight of early spring, glad and warm over Manhattan, brought
no message of cheer to the Billionaire. It bore no news of peace and joy
to him. Its very brightness, as it flooded the metropolis and mellowed
his luxurious inner office, seemed to offend the master of the world.
And presently he arose, walked to the window and made as though to
lower the shade. But for a moment he delayed this action. Standing
there at the window, he peered out. Far below him, the restless,
swarming life of the huge city crept and grovelled. Insects that were
men and women crowded the clefts that were streets. Long lines of cars,
toy-like, crept along the "L" structures. As far as the eye could reach,
tufted plumes of smoke and steam wafted away on the April breeze.
The East River glistened in the sunlight, its bosom vexed by myriad
craft, by ocean liners, by tugs and barges, by grim warships, by
sailing-vessels, whose canvas gleamed, by snow-white fruitboats from
the tropics, by hulls from every port. Over the bridges, long slow lines
of traffic crawled. And, far beyond to the dim horizon, stretched out the
hives of men, till the blue depths of distance swallowed all in haze.
And as Flint gazed on this marvel, all created and maintained by human
toil, by sweat and skill and tireless patience of the workers, a hard
smile curved his lips.
"All mine, more or less," said he to himself, puffing deep on his cigar.
"All yielding tribute to me, even as the mines and mills and factories I
cannot see yield tribute! Even as the oil-wells, the pipe-lines, the
railroads and the subways yield--even as the whole world yields it. All
this labor, all this busy strife, I have a hand in. The millions eat and
drink and buy and sell; and I take toll of it--yet it is not enough. I hold

them in my hand, yet the hand cannot close, completely. And until it
does, it is not enough! No, not enough for me!"
He pondered a moment, standing there musing at the window,
surveying "all the wonders of the earth" that in its fulness, in that year
of grace, 1921, bore tribute to him who toiled not, neither spun; and
though he smiled, the smile was bitter.
"Not enough, yet," he reflected. "And how--how shall I close my grip?
How shall I master all this, absolutely and completely, till it be mine in
truth? Through light? The mob can do with less, if I squeeze too hard!
Through food? They can economize! Transportation? No, the traffic
will bear only a certain load! How, then? What is it they all must have,
or die, that I can control? What universal need, vital to rich and poor
alike? To great and small? What absolute necessity which shall make
my rivals in the Game as much my vassals as the meanest slave in my
steel mills? What can it be? For power I must have! Like Caesar, who
preferred to be first in the smallest village, rather than be second at
Rome, I can and will have no competitor. I must rule all, or the game is
worthless! But how?"
Almost as in answer to his mental question, a sudden gust of air swayed
the curtain and brushed it against his face. And, on the moment,
inspiration struck him.
"What?" he exclaimed suddenly, his brows wrinkling, a strange and
eager light burning in his hard eyes. "Eh, what? Can it--could it be
possible? My God! If so--if it might be--the world would be my toy, to
play with as I like!
"If that could happen, kings and emperors would have to cringe and
crawl to me, like my hordes of serfs all over this broad land. Statesmen
and diplomats, president and judges, lawmakers and captains of
industry, all would fall into bondage; and for the first time in history
one man would rule the earth, completely and absolutely--and that man
would be Isaac Flint!"
Staggered by the very immensity of the bold thought, so vast that for a

moment he could not realize it in its entirety, the Billionaire fell to
pacing the floor of his office.
His cigar now hung