Ned's heart sank. Could it be possible that the inventor was contemplating the dastardly act of selling out his country? He listened with eager attention as the conversation went on.
"Ah, now we are getting down to business," smiled the elder Pulsifer amiably; "we did bring you out here to make a proposition to you, and one that we flatter ourselves will interest you deeply."
Varian bowed gravely, and seemed to wait for the other to continue.
"If you sell out Uncle Sam, I'll knock you down if it's the last thing I do," muttered Ned to himself, clenching his capable fist menacingly.
"You are interested, above all things, in the success of the Varian type of gun—handling the Varian explosive, are you not?"
The elder Pulsifer was doing the talking now. From his earnest manner things were evidently coming to a climax.
"Why, of course, that is obvious. It has been, as you said, my life work. Naturally, I wish to see its full fruition."
"Exactly; and Pulsifer Brothers are going to help you. You have heard of Baron Von——"
To Ned's disappointment, the elder Pulsifer's oily voice sank to a mere whisper, and the lad could not catch the name the gun manufacturer breathed.