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"We hope it will meet with your support," Ardswell hesitated perceptibly and went on, pitching his voice a little higher, "and you will not misunderstand my putting it rather baldly.
What were the drab records of Birch's ledgers, or even the monumental pile of nearby buildings, compared to this impetuous slogan? He stood silently, plunged in the psychology of the moment. "How much power total I mean?" said Ardswell presently, pointing to the ripping flood. "Two hundred and forty thousand horsepower, at a minimum." "By George!"
In half an hour Bowers, who was expecting them, completed the quartet. It was an unusual group that gathered that night in the dining room. Ardswell and Weatherby had spent a week in Philadelphia before Wimperley telegraphed Clark to come down. The story was plain enough. The two Englishmen had come from London to hear it, and it was told well.
The floor vibrated in a quick rhythm, and in a few seconds came the full drone of work that profound and elemental note of nature when she toils at the behest of man. The faintest flicker of light stirred in the blue English eyes. Ardswell had been walking from turbine to turbine. "Ripping!" he said. "You might shut down now." The titans dropped one by one into slumber.
"Gentlemen," he said slowly, "thank you for what you have said but I can't give you an answer at once." "There's no hurry," replied Ardswell. "It's not a case for a snap decision." Through Clark's mind ran a quizzical idea that these two understood each other admirably, and he wondered how things would have turned out had he himself been one of a pair that did such team work.
Ardswell and Weatherby wanted to see whether the machine could be made to run commercially. That it was not so running was obviously the fault of those in charge, and Clark at once determined not to attempt to make former mistakes less glaring. The more obvious they were allowed to remain, the more easy their rectification.
It was suggestive and inspiring. They had been voiceless for some time, when Clark moved restlessly. "Shall we talk here, or go back to the office?" "This is good enough for me," said Ardswell; "are you ready for business?" "Certainly." "And may I ask two questions first, one is a trifle personal?" "Please ask them, if you wish; I have no personal secrets." "That's very decent of you.
I would like to assure you," he concluded with evident respect, "that we have never experienced more difficulty in making a suggestion. The case is extraordinary we realize that." "What Weatherby has in his head," added Ardswell, "is that you have done what neither of us could ever have done, and he thinks it a waste of valuable material to try and make an executive out "
Coming last to the pulp mill, Ardswell ran an admiring eye down the long rank of machinery, ranged like sleeping giants in a dwindling perspective. "I say," he remarked involuntarily, "I'd like to see the thing turn over. Could it be arranged? at our expense of course," he added.
When she looked up she was alone. It was hours afterwards that Ardswell and Weatherby lounged at their windows, overhanging the terrace. They were in dressing gowns and smoking contemplative pipes. Down below was seated a motionless gray clad figure, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Ardswell saw him. "Poor devil!" he said under his breath.
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