Lanny had heard all these arguments; he knew his father's mind inside out. Nor was he conscious of any disagreement. What Robbie said was true, and likewise what Lincoln Steffens said; it was just that they drew different conclusions from the facts. But Lanny had better not say that, because then the father would repeat his arguments all over again. Better agree with him as far as you could, and keep the rest of your ideas to yourself. That was the course which Robbie had recommended during the years that Lanny had lived in France at war; and now Lanny would apply the method to its teacher.
VII
Robbie told all about his business project: who was backing it in America and who was to be approached in London. It wasn't a big one, as oil projects went; only about eight million dollars, but there would be more where that came from if Robbie continued to be satisfied about the prospects. It was a fast game they were going to break in on; in telling about it the father used the language of sport, of gangsters, of war — it was all of those things. Zaharoff had gone into oil; no munitions people could stay out, for it was oil that had won the last war. Did Lanny realize why the German armies had so suddenly begun clamoring for an armistice? It wasn't because they couldn't fall back and defend a new line; it wasn't because of revolts at home; it was because the Rumanian oil field had been destroyed, and the surrender of Bulgaria had cut them off from the southeast, and there was no more oil to run the tanks and trucks without which armies were stalled.
Lanny perceived that the money his father had made was burning a hole in his pocket. The idea of settling back and resting hadn't occurred to him, and it would do no good to suggest it. The purpose of having money was to get more. Money was power, the ability to do things. Money was patriotism, also. Robbie told about a Dutch bank clerk of the name of Henri Deterding who had forced his way into the oil industry and now was the master of Royal Dutch Shell; it was he who had kept the British fleet supplied with fuel all through the war. The British had had to meet his terms, and, as a result, little Holland was one of the most prosperous countries in the world — and with hardly any army or fleet of its own!
American money had made it possible for the British to take Mesopotamia from the Turks and keep it. Said Robbie: “If we hadn't sent our men and supplies, the Germans would be getting that oil right now. So why shouldn't our country have a share? We'll take in some influential Britishers and give them a chance to co-operate; but if they won't we'll use the power of the government and make them give up.”
“You mean you'll threaten them?” asked Lanny.
“Not even an argument,” said the father, smiling. “Just a little understanding among gentlemen.”
“You'll have to get a new administration in Washington,” ventured the youth; and Robbie said he hadn't overlooked that. Wilson's peace treaty was going to be dumped into the ashcan, and his fool League with it. There would be a Republican President, and a State Department that would understand businessmen and back them up.
“Believe me,” said Robbie, “the haughty gentlemen of this 'City' know how to give up when they have to. Some day you'll see them make Robbie Budd a Knight Commander of the Bath — as I'm told they're planning to do for a Greek ex-fireman who's got hold of their munitions industry!”