The Dominant Dollar Part 12

I'll go to the devil first." His fingers were on the red decanter, his brown eyes aflame. "I'll--"

"Armstrong!"

No answer, although the fingers halted.

"Steve!"

Still no answer; but bit by bit the hand retreated.

"Steve," repeated, "sit down, please; please, I say. Let's talk this matter over a little rationally. People have changed their minds before, some few billions of them--and made good afterward too. Have a little patience, man, and sit down. I have a proposition to make to you."

Reluctantly Armstrong obeyed. His face was still unnaturally pale and he was breathing hard, but he obeyed. Back in his seat he waited a second, uncertain; with an effort he faced his companion fairly.

"I--realize I'm an a.s.s, Darley," he began, hesitantly, "and that this sort of thing is melodramatically cheap." The white had left his face now and words were coming more easily. "I won't attempt to apologize, I just simply admit the truth. I've lost my grip this evening."

"Forget it." The voice was commonplace. "Just forget it."

"I can't; I'm not built that way; but I wish you would. If there's one thing I hate more than another it's cheap heroics."

"I know it--and understand. Let it go at that."

"Thank you. All right." It was matter of fact, but such with an effort.

"Let's hear your proposition."

As usual Roberts wasted no preface.

"The suggestion is merely in line with what I said before. In so many words, it's to throw up this place of yours in the University and get into business. You'll come into contact with realities that way and realities are eternally opposed to--cobwebs. You'll be happier and more contented, I'm positive, once you get adjusted." He gave his listener a keen look. "I've got an opening in mind right now. Say the word and I'll have the place ready for you the day they appoint your successor in the University. Do you care to consider it?"

"Consider, yes, certainly." Armstrong had lit a pipe and puffed at it shortly. "It's white of you too to offer it. I know it's a good thing or you wouldn't make the suggestion."

"It's not as good as Graham's offer," refuted the other evenly, "places like that don't dangle loose every day; but it will pay you better than a university chair, and it offers possibilities--you antic.i.p.ate probably,--it's in connection with the new electric line. Between ourselves, Armstrong, this system is going to be a big thing when it's complete. This is a straight tip. I happen to be in a position to know. I also happen to be in position to put you very near the bas.e.m.e.nt, providing you wish to come in with us unhampered." The voice halted meaningly. "That's all I'm at liberty to say now, until you are really in and prove unmistakably--I'll have several things more to tell you then."

"Don't misunderstand me, Darley," he said slowly, "or take offence, please; but--but, to sc.r.a.pe off the veneer, you don't trust me very far even yet, do you?"

There was a moment of silence, time for second thought.

"I can't misunderstand what you mean," said Roberts; "but unfortunately there are others besides yourself for me to consider." The voice was patient, unnaturally so. "I've already talked more than I should."

"If I accepted," un.o.bservant, Armstrong's mind was running on in its own channel, "the place you mean would take my entire time. In a way it would be like Graham's offer. I'd be compelled--you catch the idea, don't you?"

"Yes." This time the other did not amplify.

"You know why I refused that proposition before. We beat the brush pretty thoroughly at that time." It was declination involved, but declination nevertheless unmistakable. "It's a rocky road I'm on, and with occasional mudholes such as--well--such as I fell into to-night; but somehow I can't leave it. I won't try to defend it this time. I'm not in the mood. But when it comes to breaking free, taking a new trail--I simply can't do it, can't!"

"Very well." The voice was non-committal. Waiting, Armstrong thought there would be more to follow, a comment at least; but there was none.

Roberts merely leaned back more comfortably in his place, remained so for a minute while like smoke the former subject faded from the horizon.

Armstrong grew conscious that he was being observed intently.

"By the way," introduced Roberts, abruptly, "I've decided to give up my residence here in the suburbs. They're remodelling the office building I'm in, you know: adding another floor, an elevator, and one thing and another. I've rented a suite in the addition, to be fitted out after some ideas of my own. They'll begin on it inside a week."

For a moment Armstrong said nothing.

"I'm not particularly surprised," he commented at last, "that is, not surprised that you're going to quit me. It was merely a question of time until this place we're living in here got too small for you. When will you go?"

"The lease gives them a month to deliver."

"A month. All right." There was frost forming in the tone. "I'll try and la.s.soo another mate in that time. The place isn't particularly pretentious, but, nevertheless, I can't afford to inhabit it alone." He smiled, but it was not his customary companionable smile. "You're on the incline and trudging up steadily, aren't you, old man?"

For an instant Roberts returned the look with the a.n.a.lytic one Armstrong knew so well.

"I trust so," he returned. A pause, again sufficient for second thought.

"Looking into the immediate future I see a lot of grinding to be done, and I need machinery to do it with. This down town move is merely part of the campaign."

"I see," Armstrong ignored the explanation, even perverted it intentionally. "And the next installation of machinery will be in stone out on n.o.b Hill among the other imitation colonial factories. When's that to be, if I may ask?"

Roberts said nothing.

"When's it to be, Darley?" repeated Armstrong. "You have it in mind, haven't you?"

This time Roberts turned, his eyes unsmiling, his lips tight.

"When have I offended you, and how, Armstrong?" he countered directly.

"Tell me that."

"Offended!" Roused out of his ill humor Armstrong flushed penitently.

"You've never offended, never. On the contrary, you're only too patient with my tantrums." He jerked himself together impulsively. "I didn't mean anything by that at all. I'm blooming glad to see you prosper. I always knew you would."

"The imitation colonial--factory then--" Roberts recalled slowly.

"Just a dream, a fancy, an air castle."

"No, a reality--I hope."

"What?--a miracle! But how about the tape line?"

"I repeat: I hope. Hope always refers to the future--the indefinite future."

Armstrong smiled broadly, shrugged. Banter tingled on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason remained unspoken. Abruptly as it had arisen the subject vanished beneath the surface. Merely the memory of that suggestion of things to come remained.

In the silence Roberts glanced at the clock and arose preparatory to bed.

Watching the familiar action, a new thought sprang full-fledged to Armstrong's brain, a sudden appreciation of the unconscious dependence he had grown to feel on the other man. The thought took words.

"On the square, old man," he said soberly, "I hate to have you go. It'll be beastly lonely here without you to sit down on me and make me feel foolish." He gestured in mute eloquence. "It means the end between you and me the moment you pack your trunk. We may both put up a bluff--but just the same it's the end."

Roberts halted thoughtfully where he stood.

"The end? I wonder--and who will be to blame?"

"Neither of us," swiftly. "It was inevitable. We'll simply drift apart.