"My people won't buy the S. R. & N.," Illis finally announced. "But I'll put it up to them."
"I can't delay action if there's a chance of a refusal. I'll have to see Blum and Capron," said O'Neil.
"I'll cable full details within the hour. We'll have an answer by to-morrow night."
"And if they refuse?" O'Neil lit a cigar with steady fingers.
"Oh, if they refuse I'll join you. We'll go over the matter carefully in the mean time. Two million you said, didn't you?"
"Yes. There's two million profit for you in nine months." His voice was husky and a bit uneven, for he had been under a great strain.
"Good! You don't know how resentful I feel toward Blum and his crowd. I—I'm downright angry: I am that."
Illis took the hand which his caller extended, with an expressionless face.
"I'm glad I found you," confessed O'Neil. "I was on my last legs. Herman Heidlemann will pay our price when the last bridge-bolt is driven home, and he'll pay with a smile on his face—that's the sort of man he is."
"He won't pay if he knows I'm interested. We're not exactly friendly since I sold out my smelter interests. But he needn't know—nobody need know."