"Well, then, if you want to ratify this arrangement at the next meeting of your board, it will be all right with me, and moreover I'll guarantee you personally that within a year the Salamander will be taking over the Guardian's business in at least three of the principal cities of the United States."
"The next meeting is on Monday," said Mr. Murch.
"Very well. Ratify it then, but keep it strictly under cover for two months. If I hear from you that the deal has gone through, I'll start laying my wires. This is the first of October. Don't let anything out until the first of December. Then I'll resign, and come to the Salamander the first of the new year—possibly before that."
"How so?"
"Oh, I've a notion that when I resign, Mr. Wintermuth will say that I needn't remain the customary thirty days; I fancy he'll let me out at once."
A smile, none too pleasant, crossed the lips of the Guardian official. Business was business, of course, and a man was entitled to use his personal influence to advance himself; but he scarcely relished the idea of practically looting the company for which he had worked for a good many years. O'Connor's fiber was not of the tenderest, but he had his intervals of conscientiousness, when his brain saw the correct ethics, even if his hand did not always follow.
Mr. Murch got up from his chair.
"I'll call you on the phone Monday, after our meeting," he said.
"I shall be at the office until five."
They parted.