"Well ... I'll ... be ... damned!" Slowly turning to the telephone, Brookings called a number and asked for Doctor DuQuesne, then called another.
"Brookings speaking. I would like to see you this afternoon. Will you be at home?... I'll be there in about an hour. Good bye."
When Brookings arrived he was shown into DuQuesne's study. The two men shook hands perfunctorily and sat down, the scientist waiting for the other to speak.
"Well, DuQuesne, you were right. Our man couldn't handle it. But of course you didn't mean the terms you mentioned before?"
DuQuesne's lips smiled; a hard, cold smile.
"You know what I said, Brookings. Those terms are now doubled, twenty thousand and ten million. Nothing else goes."
"I expected it, since you never back down. The Corporation expects to pay for its mistakes. We accept your terms and I have contracts here for your services as research director, at a salary of two hundred and forty thousand dollars per annum, with the bonus and royalties you demand."
DuQuesne glanced over the documents and thrust them into his pocket.
"I'll go over these with my attorney to-night, and mail one back to you if he approves the contract. In the meantime, we may as well get down to business."