Пользователь - WORLD'S END

"We should not have gone," said the other. In all Lanny's imaginings, it had never occurred to him that an old Greek devil might have a sense of humor; but it was now plain that he did. His lips smiled; but oddly enough, Lanny felt that the blue eyes were not smiling; They still watched.

"Thank you, sir," said Lanny, returning the letter.

Another silence. Finally the old gentleman remarked: "So Robert Budd thinks I have had his portfolio stolen! May I inquire where this happened?"

"On board the steamer Pharaoh, sir."

"The thief has not yet reported to me; but as soon as he does, I promise that I will return the property unopened - just as you have done with mine. You will tell your father that?"

"Certainly, sir. Thank you." Lanny was quite solemn about it, and only afterward did he realize that Zaharoff had been "spoofing" him.

"And you won't feel that you have to intercept any more of my invitations?"

"No, sir."

"You are going to be an honorable and truthtelling young gentleman from now on?"

"I will try, sir," said Lanny.

"I, too, used to have the same thought upon occasions," said the munitions king. Was it wistfulness or was it humor in his soft voice? "However, I found that it would be necessary for me to retire from my present business - and unfortunately it is the only one I have."

Lanny didn't know how to reply, so there was another silence.

When Zaharoff spoke again, it was in a business-like tone. "Young man, you say that your father told you to state the facts."

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell me: does your father wish to see me?"

"Not that I know of, sir."

"You don't think that he sent you here for that purpose?"

Lanny was taken aback. "Oh, no, sir!" he exclaimed. Then realizing the full implication of the question, he decided to fight back, "My father once told me about Bismarck - who said that the way he fooled people was by telling them the truth."

The old man smiled again. "You are a clever lad," said he; "but don't let Bismarck fool you with nonsense like that. Do you think your father would object to seeing me?"

"I don't know why he should, sir."

Zaharoff had in his hand the letter from the Marquise des Pom-pailles. He went to the escritoire and sat down and did some writing on it. Then he handed this to the boy, saying: "Read it again." Lanny saw that Zaharoff had marked out some of the words and. written others over them. He read:

"M. Basil Zaharoff requests the pleasure of the company of JVL Robert Budd and his son to tea this afternoon to discuss the problems of the armaments industry."

XI

The duquesa did not appear for the occasion. The waiter who brought the tray poured whisky and soda for the two gentlemen,, and tea for Lanny; then he retired with quick bows.

The peasant boy from Asia Minor had become a citizen of whatever country he was in; so now he was an American businessman, using American business language. He sat erect and spoke with decision. He said that while he had never met Mr. Budd, he had watched him from a distance and admired him. Zaharoff himself had been a "hustler" in his time, although the Americans had not yet taught him that word. He said that the leaders of the armaments industry ought to understand one another, because theirs was the only trade in which competitors helped instead of harming. The more armaments one nation got, the more the other nations were compelled to get. "We are all boosters for one another, Mr. Budd."

It was flattering to be called one of the leaders of the armaments industry, but Robbie tried not to feel too exalted. He said that the future of the industry had never looked so bright to him as it did just then; they could all afford to be "bullish." The other replied that he could say even more than that; they were going to have to learn to go into a new element, the air. Robbie agreed with this also. Basil Zaharoff forgot now and then that he was an American, and set down his glass and rubbed his hands together, slowly and thoughtfully.

He soon made it clear why he had asked for a conference. He looked at Robbie and then at Lanny, and said: "I suppose this bright little man never talks about his father's affairs?" Robbie answered that whatever mistakes the little man might make, he would never make that one.

Tactfully, and with many flatteries, the Greek trader declared that he had conceived a great admiration for the methods of New England Yankees. He wanted to do for Mr. Budd what he had done nearly forty years ago for the Maine Yankee named Maxim. He gave Mr. Budd to understand that he was prepared to make him an excellent proposition; he added that he meant those words in the most generous sense; he made a gesture of baring his heart.

Robbie answered with equal courtesy that he appreciated this honor, but was unfortunately compelled to decline it. No, it was not merely that he was under contract; it was a question of home ties and loyalties. Zaharoff interrupted him, urging him to think carefully; his offer would not merely satisfy Mr. Budd, but even surprise him. The business he was doing at present would be small indeed compared to what he could do if he would join forces with Vickers, Limited. The whole world was open to them "Mr. Zaharoff," said the younger man, "you must understand that Budds have been making small arms for some eighty years, and it's a matter of prestige with us. I am not just a munitions salesman, but a member of a family."

"Ah, yes," said the old gentleman. "Ah, yes!" Had this young fellow meant to give him a sword prick? "Family dignity is an important thing. But I wonder" - he paused and closed his eyes, doing his wondering intensely - "if there might be the possibility of a combination - some stock that might be purchased . . . ?"

"There is stock on the market," replied Robbie; "but not very much, I imagine."

"What I meant is if your family might see the advantage . . . ? We have Vickers in most of the countries of Europe, and why not in the States? Do you think that members of your family might care to sell?"

Their eyes met; it was the climax of a duel. "My guess is, Mr. Zaharoff, they would rather buy Vickers than sell Budd's."

"Ah, indeed!" replied the munitions king. Not by the flicker of an eyelash would he show surprise. "That would be a large transaction, Mr. Budd."

It was David defying Goliath; for of course Budd's was a pygmy compared to Vickers. "We can leave it open for the moment," said Robbie, blandly. "As it happens, my son and I have one advantage which we have not earned. I am under forty, and he is fourteen."

Never was war more politely declared, nor a declaration of war more gracefully accepted. "Ah, yes," said the munitions king - whose duquesa had no sons, only two daughters. "Perhaps I have made a mistake and devoted myself to the wrong industry, Mr. Budd. I should have been finding out how to prolong life, instead of how to destroy it. Perhaps thirty years from now, you may decide that you have made the same mistake." The speaker paused for a moment, and then added: "If there is any life left then."

A man who wishes to succeed in the world of action has to keep his mind fixed upon what he is doing; he has to like what he is doing, and not be plagued with doubts and scruples. But somewhere in the depths of the soul of every man lurk weaknesses, watching for a chance to slip past the censor who guards our conduct. Was it because this naive little boy had broken into the munitions king's life with his odd problem cf conscience? Or had the father touched some chord by his reference to age? Anyhow, the master of Europe was moved to lift a corner of the mask he wore. Said he:

"Have you noticed, Mr. Budd, the strange situation in which we find ourselves? We spend our lives manufacturing articles of commerce, and every now and then we are seized by the painful thought that these articles may be used."