f
money's courage. You think the Vose directors are able to hold their
stockholders in line, do you?"

Mr. Fogg uncrossed his legs, put both feet on the floor, hooked
his hands across his paunch, and gazed up at the ceiling, evidently
pondering profoundly.

"I repeat, I'm not viewing this thing as a steamboating proposition,
not figuring what kind of tariffs will kill competition," stated Mr.
Marston. "I'm not estimating what kind of tariffs will make a profit for
the Paramount. I'd as soon sell sugar over the counter. My associates
expect me to make money for them in another way--make it in big lumps
and on a quick turn. The Vose line, competing, kills us from the
financial viewpoint."

"Exactly."

There was silence in the room for some time.

"There's never any telling what stockholders will do," remarked Mr.
Fogg, his eyes still studying the panels of the ceiling.

Mr. Marston did not dispute that dictum.

His field-marshal slowly tipped down his head and gave his superior
another of those bland stares.

"So I'll go right ahead and see what they'll do, sir."

He rose and kicked the legs of his trousers into place.

"You understand that in this affair, as in all matters where you have
been employed, there must be absolutely clean work. There must be no
come-back. Of course, I have instructed you to this effect regularly,
but I wish to have you remember that I have repeated the instructions,
sir."

"Exactly!" Mr. Fogg's eyes did not blink.

"You will be prepared to testify to that effect in case the need ever
arises."

"Exactly!"

Mr. Fogg delivered that word like a countersign. Into it, in his
interviews with Julius Marston, he put understanding, humility, promise.

"May we expect quick action?" asked the financier. "The thing mustn't
hang fire. We have a lot of our nimble money tied up as it is."

"Exactly!" returned Mr. Fogg, on his way to the door. "Quick action it
is!"

"This is probably the craziest idea that ever popped into a man's head
when that man was sitting in Julius Marston's office," reflected Mr.
Fogg, marching through the anteroom of this temple of finance. "There's
one thing about it that's comforting--it's so wild-eyed it will never
be blamed on to Julius Marston as any of his getting up. And that's his
principal lookout when a deal is on. It seems to be up to me to deliver
the goods."

He sat down on a bench in the waiting-room and rubbed his knuckles over
his forehead.