“That’s about the best compliment you could pay the city,” said Potter, but in his mind he was saying over and over: “What is it? What is there about him? Where does he fit in?”
“I’ve never had an opportunity to present some letters I have from friends of yours, Mr. Waite. But here they are.”
“From Tom Herkimer and George Striker, eh?” said Potter, glancing over the notes. “They seem to be rather strong for you. I’m not very useful as an acquaintance just now, but as soon as I’m on my feet—”
“As soon as you’re on your feet,” said La Mothe, “he’ll have you chaperoning him through your plant. He’s a regular factory hound. Never saw a man so keen on factories.”
“I’m interested in mill-work and manufacturing efficiency,” said Cantor. “It’s an important part of my business.”
“I’d say it was all of your business,” said La Mothe, with a laugh. “I’ll bet he could draw from memory the plans of half the plants in Detroit.”
Cantor smiled.
“Speaking of plants,” said La Mothe, “things are getting a little thick. I was just talking to Weston, of the Structural Steel. He said they’d put armed guards all around the plant. Found explosives in the coal, and now they’re sorting over every chunk of coal that comes in. They’re making shrapnel-cases, you know.... Kraemer’s friend, the Kaiser, is doing it, I suppose.”
“Dirty business,” Cantor said, easily. “Trouble developed last week in the Delmont Machine Company’s shops. They found somebody had put emery in the bearings.”
“Any war news?” asked Potter.