Chip knew what he wanted to say. The answer had trembled on his tongue from the moment the outlaw started speaking. Only a violent effort of will-power had kept him from surging to his feet, hurling his fist into the pirate's face. But that way, he realized, lay madness. So far Blacky Jordan had been astonishingly conciliatory. But Chip knew, as did the pirate, that if this peaceful means of gaining his end were unavailing, Jordan had at his disposal other means of learning the secret he desired.
Chip was bolstered, too, by one bit of knowledge Blacky Jordan did not possess: that the ekalastron mine was already occupied by a strongly armed corps of the Uranus Space Control. But it would not do to reveal this now. Neither would it do to pledge false allegiance nor proffer blunt refusal. The only other alternative was to stall for time. This Chip did. He stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
"This is pretty sudden," he hesitated. "I hardly know what to say, Jordan. Could I have a little while to think it over?"
Jordan rose from his desk with the toothy grin of one who sees his plan already half accomplished.
"Sure, bucko! Take all the time you want. Take a half an hour if you like. I got a few things to do, anyhow. I'll just roll along and take care of them. You stay here and make up your mind. And, Phipps—you stay here and keep an eye on Mr. Warren," Jordan grinned. "Not that I don't trust you, you understand, bucko. You and me's going to be buddies. But you might want to play double sol, or somethin'. Well—see you later!" And with a wide anticipatory grin on his lips, the big man lumbered from the room.
But barely had he disappeared than happened that which was most stunning of all which had befallen Chip Warren. Phipps, with an agility surprising in one so apishly squat, scurried across the room, and listened until the whine of the elevator advised him the coast was clear. Then he spun to Chip.
"Listen, Warren," he husked, "I gotta talk fast; are you for his plan or ain't you?"
Warren stared at the man in numb astonishment. "Why, I—I—" he faltered. "What are you getting at?"
"Because if you're for his plan and him," hurried Scarface, "I'm through talking. But if you're for his plan and against him, maybe you and I can do a little private business."
"Private business?" Chip was still puzzled.