The Air Trust | Page 8

George Allan England
big job, and one on which your entire future depends. Put it through,
and I'll do well by you. Fail, and by the Eternal, I'll break you! I can,
and will, mark that! Do you get me?"
"I--yes, sir--that is, I'll do my best, and--"
"Listen! You go to work at once, immediately, understand? Work out
for me some process, some practicable method by which the nitrogen
and oxygen can both be collected in large quantities from the air.
Everything in my laboratories at Oakwood Heights is at your disposal.
Money's no object. Nothing counts, now, but results!
"I want the process all mapped out and ready for me, in its essential
outlines, two weeks from today. If it isn't--" His gesture was a menace.
"If it is--well, you'll be suitably rewarded. And no leaks, now. Not a
word of this to any one, understand? If it gets out, you know what I can
do to you, and will! Remember Roswell; remember Parker Hayes. They
let news get to the Dillingham-Saunders people, about the new Tezzoni
radio-electric system--and one's dead, now, a suicide; the other's in
Sing-Sing for eighteen years. Remember that--and keep your mouth
shut!"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"All right, then. A fortnight from today, report to me here. And mind
you, have something to report, or--!"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well! Now, go!"
Thus dismissed, Herzog gathered together his books and papers,
blinked a moment with those peculiar wall-eyes of his, arose and,
bowing first to Flint and then to the keenly-watching Waldron, backed
out of the office.

When the door had closed behind him, Flint turned to his partner with a
nervous laugh.
"That's the way to get results, eh?" he exclaimed. "No dilly-dallying
and no soft soap; but just lay the lash right on, hard--they jump then,
the vermin! Results! That fellow will work his head off, the next two
weeks; and there'll be something doing when he comes again. You'll
see!"
Waldron laughed nonchalantly. Once more the mask of indifference
had fallen over him, veiling the keen, incisive interest he had shown
during the interview.
"Something doing, yes," he drawled, puffing his cigar to a glow. "Only
I advise you to choose your men. Some day you'll try that on a real
man--one of the rough-necks you know, and--"
Flint snapped his fingers contemptuously, gazed at Waldron a moment
with unwinking eyes and tugged at his mustache.
"When I need advice on handling men, I'll ask for it," he rapped out.
Then, glancing at the Louis XIV clock: "Past the time for that C.P.S.
board-meeting, Wally. No more of this, now. We'll talk it over at the
Country Club, tonight; but for the present, let's dismiss it from our
minds."
"Right!" answered the other, and arose, yawning, as though the whole
subject were of but indifferent interest to him. "It's all moonshine, Flint.
All a pipe-dream. Defoe's philosophers, who spent their lives trying to
extract sunshine from cucumbers, never entertained any more fantastic
notion than this of yours. However, it's your funeral, not mine. You're
paying for it. I decline to put in any funds for any such purpose. Amuse
yourself; you've got to settle the bill."
Flint smiled sourly, his gold tooth glinting, but made no answer.
"Come along," said his partner, moving toward the door. "They're
waiting for us, already, at the board meeting. And there's big business

coming up, today--that strike situation, you remember. Slade's going to
be on deck. We've got to decide, at once, whether or not we're going to
turn him loose on the miners, to smash that gang of union thugs and
Socialist fanatics, and do it right. That's a game worth playing, Flint;
but this Air Trust vagary of yours--stuff and nonsense!"
Flint, for all reply, merely cast a strange look at his partner, with those
strongly-contracted pupils of his; and so the two vultures of prey
betook themselves to the board room where already, round the long
rosewood table, Walter Slade of the Cosmos Detective Company was
laying out his strike-breaking plans to the attentive captains of industry.
CHAPTER IV.
AN INTERLOPER.
On the eleventh day after this interview between the two men who,
between them, practically held the whole world in their grasp, Herzog
telephoned up from Oakwood Heights and took the liberty of informing
Flint that his experiments had reached a point of such success that he
prayed Flint would condescend to visit the laboratories in person.
Flint, after some reflection, decided he would so condescend; and
forthwith ordered his limousine from his private garage on William
Street. Thereafter he called Waldron on the 'phone, at his Fifth Avenue
address.
"Mr. Waldron is not up, yet, sir," a carefully-modulated voice answered
over the wire. "Any message I can give him, sir?"
"Oh, hello! That you, Edwards?"
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