“Looks to me as if you’ve bungled this thing badly, Ferriss,” he growled. “You say that if the government decides not to take the boat that there is a chance Lockyer will accept our offer?”
“He’ll have to, or be ruined,” was the prompt rejoinder.
“Then we’ve got him!” cried the other, bringing down a ponderous fist on the shiny mahogany directors’ table of the Atlas Submarine Company.
“I don’t think so,” rejoined Ferriss quietly; “from what I can gather, the boat is bound to be an unqualified triumph. The government—although of course I didn’t tell Lockyer so—will jump at her.”
“That is if she is a success?” asked Camberly, a peculiar light creeping into his eyes.
“Exactly. But, as I said, there is no doubt of that.”
“Unless——”
“Well, unless what? You don’t mean to cripple her, as we did the Grampus Concern when they began to be serious rivals?”
“That’s what I do,” growled Camberly. “It’s this way, Ferriss. We’ve got to have money. Our Far Eastern friends stand ready to pay us, you know how much, for the compressed-air boat. Thinking that Lockyer would be easy, we practically promised to close a deal with them. We’ve got to have it.”