H. R., thinking of Grace, nodded absently and said, "Send for Onthemaker."
Max came on the run. Nearly three days had elapsed without a front-page paragraph for him.
Barrett told him about the crisis. Their idea had been stolen and utilized by unscrupulous merchants who were sandwiching without permission and using scabs.
"I get you," said Max Onthemaker. Then he turned to the chief and told him:
"H. R., you've got to do something to make George G. Goodchild sue you for a million dollars." He had drawn and kept ready for use sixty-three varieties of restraining orders, writs, etc.
"What's that got to do with our—" began Andrew Barrett, impatiently.
"Certainly!" cut in Mr. Onthemaker. "We must fight Capital with its own weapon. The Money Power is great on injunctions. I wish to say that when it comes to injunctions I've got Wall Street gasping for breath and—"
"Yes, but what about the scabs? Can't you stop 'em?" persisted Barrett.
The future of the Barrett Itinerant Advertising Agency was at stake.
"Sure! We can hire strong-arm—"