"Has it never occurred to you, Wray," snapped Bent, "that somebody might come along with an axe?"
"Er—no. I hadn't thought of that," he replied quietly.
"Well, think it over. It's worth your while."
"Is this a declaration of war?"
"Oh, no," hastily, "merely a movement for peace."
Wray took a few puffs at his cigar and looked from Janney to the General, like a man on whom some great truth had suddenly dawned.
"I had no idea," he said, with a skillfully assumed expression of wonder, "that the Amalgamated was so desperately anxious as this."
In drawing aside the curtain, he had still managed to retain his tactical advantage. Both older men felt it—Bent more than Janney, because it was he who had shown their hand, while Wray's cards were still unread.
The natural response was tolerant amusement, and both of them made it.
"Anxious?" laughed Bent. "Is the lion anxious when the wolf comes prowling in his jungle? Success has twisted your perspective, my dear Wray. The Amalgamated is not anxious—it has, however, a natural interest in the financial health of its competitors."