The old man didn't look at Joey. "You were right," he said. "It would be better to forget the formula."
Joey fought down his impatience. He tried to move smoothly, keep his voice calm. "No. You mustn't think that. You can't be selfish. You said yourself, Mr. Ewing, that this knowledge could do great good."
The quiet persuasiveness of Joey's approach seemed cause for further alarm. "I said that, but since then ... I ... I see that it might also do great harm."
He tottered away from Joey and slumped tiredly into the chair by the table.
"Mr. Ewing," Joey said, following him, "yesterday I saw one of your pictures come to life."
Ewing did not look up. "I know. The accident at the corner. I was afraid you had seen it."
"Afraid!" Joey laughed. "That was the clincher." He leaned over the old man. "Listen, Mr. Ewing, the second I saw that wreck, I realized what we have in Formula #53. I want to help you make use of it—the proper use."
The old man shook his head. "I'm afraid," he whimpered.
Joey ignored the interruption. "We'll work this together. If we play it smart, the sky's the limit. We can be millionaires. Name our own prices." He laughed in his excitement. "They'll meet our demands when they see what we've got to offer."
Ewing had slowly pushed himself to his feet. He regarded Joey with mixed apprehension and disgust. "You ... you can't commercialize my discovery," he protested. "I wouldn't permit the formula to be used for personal gain."