"Not at all. I'll hold the control."
"Of what?"
"Of all of it," said John Rawn, gently smiling, as he leaned his knuckles on the dingy table in the dining-room in Kelly Row.
Halsey smiled at him, tapping his finger on the side of his head. "I see," said he.
"No, I'm not crazy. What do you think you see?"
"Things don't happen in that way, Mr. Rawn. Inventors don't get off in the money like that. Don't tell me that."
"Right you are," said Rawn, dropping a clenched fist on the table top. "Inventors don't! But men of that same class—men of grip and grasp—they do get off where the money is! I'll show you. They won't rob John Rawn!"
VII
"Did they take it easy?" queried Halsey finally.
"Threatened to kill me, that was all! As I said, they locked the door. It was the traffic manager, Ackerman, who took it roughest. We both looked along his pistol barrel. 'All right,' I said. 'Shoot. Kill me, and what is there left? You can't take me in with you—it's only a question whether I'll take you in with me!