“I been thinking, George,” said Jimmy one evening, when they had been working on his idea about a month. “I told Mr. Hope all about this plan of ours that first day. He’s never said a word about it since, except to tell me Mr. Wentworth said it was rotten. It worries me sometimes to think he’s in the secret. I used to think I liked him. But I don’t. I’m afraid of him, somehow. Do you like him?”
“No, I don’t,” said Mr. Cooper decidedly.
“I’ve been wondering,” Jimmy went on, “suppose he wanted to use the idea for his own. It’s good—we know that now. And anybody who knows about it could use it. That’s what worries me—to think Hope knows all about it, too.”
The office manager deliberated on this.
“What could he do if he wanted to?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know; what could he?”
“Nothing that I know of. He told the boss about it—the boss knows it’s your idea. You can trust R. G., Jimmy; he’s as square as they come.”
“I believe you,” said Jimmy. “But just the same—”
“Just the same, Hope will bear watching. You’re right on that. I’ll watch him. But I don’t see what he could do. Probably he’s forgotten all about it by now.”
“I hope so,” said Jimmy fervently.