“Wrong!” The elder Judd spat out the word with evident enjoyment. “You were superintendent. But you can’t fire anybody now because you were fired yourself this afternoon at a meeting of the board of directors.”
“It’s a lie!” blustered Creighton. His eyes gleamed slyly. “If it ain’t a lie, though, I don’t care. I’ll be superintendent of the Landon works next week, and the Bloss Company will find——”
“Wrong again!” Freeman Judd stepped closer. “At five this afternoon the final papers were signed whereby the two concerns come under the same management and ownership. If it’s of any interest to you, I am the man who is merging them. I kicked you out of Bloss’ to-day after reading the reports of an expert accountant and a detective who’ve been checking you up for several weeks; I’ll make sure you stay out of Landon’s. So, Mr. Creighton, you see, you won’t be able to fire anybody from either factory.”
Creighton did not wait to argue. With a sudden leap, he lost himself in the crowd that was making for the outer door.
“Shall I go after him, dad?” asked Vern, his fingers working hungrily.
“No need,” smiled Freeman Judd. “He’ll run across some plain-clothes men just outside. Misappropriation of funds, malicious damage of property, and other charges to answer in court.”
Somebody plucked at Vern’s coat sleeve, and he looked down into Hazel’s startled eyes.
“Is he your father?” she asked, pointing.
“Why, yes! Let me introduce——”
“But he’s just bought both factories,” she said, “and he must be very rich, and—and I thought you were poor, working in the Bloss stockroom. I suppose now——”