“Then what good will—”
Mr. McFarland again held up his hand for silence. “You know, in these days of keen competition, manufacturers of motors for airplanes and automobiles are bending every effort to produce steel that will stand severe tests, that will endure strains and over-drive, and will last, last!”
Johnny nodded.
“We have such a steel as that, a marvelous steel. The man who discovered it is a genius—one of our mechanics. Unfortunately, after he had produced a few bars of this steel, and before he confided the formula to any other person, or had discovered ways of working it, he broke down from the excitement and over-strain. His mind became a blank—a complete blank.”
He paused to stare at the wall, as if in a dream.
“And there,” he went on, “are the bars of steel, some only eight inches long, some two feet—eight of them. Up to last night, that is. Now two of the shorter ones are missing. I was very careless. They should have been guarded. Competition is very strong, and doubtless a competitor has a spy in our plant. If that spy makes away with that steel, if the other man discovers the secret formula first and secures a patent, you can see what it will mean to us.”
He looked Johnny squarely in the eyes. Johnny returned the gaze, but his knees trembled. He remembered his experience of the previous night. He had been the last man to leave the factory. Was his employer about to accuse him of stealing the precious bars?
It was a tense moment. For a full thirty seconds not a sound disturbed the room. At last the magnate spoke in a whisper:
“Johnny, from now on it shall be your task to guard the six remaining bars, and to discover the whereabouts of the two that were stolen.”
Johnny’s muscles relaxed like a violin string when the bridge falls.