"Morrison, let me say this," blurted the mill magnate, when they were on their way in the limousine. "By reason of this people-side-partner notion of yours, you have gone to work and got yourself into an infernal fix. How do you expect to make good that promise?"
"I suppose I did sound rather boastful, but I had to put it strong. A mealy-mouthed promise wouldn't hold them in line!"
"But that promise only encourages such muckers in the belief that they have a right to demand, to boss their betters, to call for accountings and concessions. You have put the devil into 'em!"
"I hope not! Faith in a contract—that's what I tried to put into 'em.
They'll wait and let me operate!"
"Operate! You're one man against the whole state government and you're defying single-handed the political powers! You can't deliver the goods! That gang down-town will wait about so long and then 'twill be hell to pay to-night!"
Morrison had found his pipe in his overcoat pocket. He was soothing himself with a smoke on the way toward the Corson mansion.
"But why worry so much when the night is still young?" he queried, placidly.
VII
THE THIN CRUST OVER BOILING LAVA
Senator Corson, at the head of the receiving-line, attended strictly to the task in hand as an urbane and assiduous host.