"It's worse than that," countered Mr. Fulton. "It's the day before the beginning of a new option, held by the people who watered that gas—and at least a dozen other sneaking tricks."
"But you told us that you would—why, you guaranteed us a trial flight."
"I said you didn't have to buy till you'd seen it work, yes. I'm in your hands, gentlemen. After midnight to-night I'm in other hands—and you're going to lose the chance of your lifetime to secure for your government something that may prove the deciding factor in that terrific war you're carrying on over there. I'm sure you don't doubt my good faith."
"Faith! It's performances we want."
"Give me gas and I'll give you a demonstration that can't help but convince you. I can't use my motor on water. I was willing to risk my neck—and my boy's—by going up and trying this contraption with my left hand—but I can't accomplish the impossible."
"But surely you don't expect us to buy a pig in a poke——"
"This is no pig—it's a hawk. Will you do this? Will you buy the machine and the idea on approval? I'm pledged. If it isn't sold by night to you, to-morrow those other people will come with cash in hand——"
"Harris, you know," drawled Mr. Lewis, "I half believe the fellow's trying to flimflam us, you know. How do we know?"
"How do you know!" Mr. Fulton's eyes flashed fire. "I'll have you know
I'm a man of honor."
"Sure—sure," agreed Mr. Harris conciliatingly. "But that's not the idea, old chap. We don't buy this for ourselves, you understand. We're merely agents, and responsible to our chief. What'd we say if we came back with a bag of pot metal for our money?"