“I am just back from Washington. The gun is a failure. It has been finally rejected by the experts, which does not so much matter, for it seems that my patents are not so sound as I supposed. There were others ahead of me with the same idea, and they got the best of it. When I got you to join me in this venture I did not know that I was infringing on any one; but this point was established beyond doubt while I was in Washington, where I had several interviews with the other parties' representatives. I am sorry for you; but you will remember that you yourself told me to go ahead and that you would stand back of me. I did so. You will find that you are much more deeply involved than you have any notion of. I should say that your individual losses will easily reach fifteen or twenty thousand dollars. My own are much heavier, so heavy that I can never meet them. Knowing this, you will understand why I take the course I do.”
The afternoon wore on. He watched the tracery of the frost creep up the panes again. Lights flared in the long rows of windows in the shops, but the sounds there and the rumble of heavy machinery continued until it was quite dark. Then all this ceased with a sudden bang and jar; and again overhead the big bell rang out clear and sharp in the cold night air.
“It's zero weather,” commented Williams getting down from his stool, but his employer gave no heed to what he said, and he busied himself noisily in stamping into his overshoes, then he put on his hat and coat. Benson roused himself.
“Jim!” he said.
“Yes, sir,” answered the bookkeeper briskly.
“What are they doing inside?”
“They are going ahead with the guns.”
“How many have they got?”
“Something over fifteen hundred.”
Benson groaned aloud. It was worse than he supposed. He said huskily: