They couldn't help it!
"Cold feet!" said H. R. calmly.
They looked relieved. Then they looked anxious. The reason the ruled masses never win is because they inflict upon themselves their own doubts.
"How many times your own salary do you wish to earn for me?" asked H. R. in the tone of voice in which a philanthropist asks strangers for subscriptions to his pet charity. This always makes people feel that extravagance is a sin.
"I'd expect to earn for you—" began one of the victims.
"Not what you would expect, but what you would like," corrected H. R. He spoke so kindly that they at once knew it was a trap. A look of brotherhood always is, to all clever men of an editorial type of mind.
"Four or five times," answered No. 1.
"And you?"
"I don't want to work for you at all," answered No. 2, feeling that his answer was sure not to be right.
"Good morning," said H. R. in such a voice and with such a look that No. 2 instantly ceased to exist. When he walked out he didn't hear his own footsteps.