“Mr. Bennington?”

John turned.  Chittenden, the young English inventor, stood respectfully just within the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Chittenden.  How’s the invention going?  Did you get that special pulley from Pittsburgh yet?”

“The invention is going very well, sir.  But it is not of that I wish to speak.”

“Have you joined the union, then?” asked Bennington, with a shade of irony which did not escape the keen-eyed Englishman.

“No!” This was not spoken; it was more like a shout.  “I have joined no union, and my brain may rot before I do.  The truth is, sir, I hear that if the men go out you’ll tear down the shops.”  He hesitated.

“Go on.”

“Well, I do not want this to happen on my account.  I am young; I can wait; I’ll take my tinkering elsewhere.  You’ve been very good to me sir, and I should hate to see you troubled.”

“Chittenden, you can’t leave me now.  If you do, I shall never forgive you.  You are a valuable piece of property just now.  You are to be my test case, as the lawyers say.  If you go now the men will think I weakened and forced you out.  You gave me your word that you would stay here till I told you to go.”

“There’s nothing more to be said, sir.  You may depend upon me.”

“Thanks.  The day you perfect your machine, on that day I shall find the capital to promote it.  Good morning.”

“The committee was coming up after me, sir,” was the reply.

“Ah!” Bennington’s eyes flashed.  “Then remain to hear what I have to say to them.”

All this while the girl at the typewriter never paused.  Clickity-click! clickity-click!  Suddenly all noises ceased, all but the noise of the typewriter.  The two men looked at each other quickly and comprehensively.  There was a tramping of feet on the stairs, and presently a knock on the door.  Clickity-click!

“You may go,” said Bennington to the girl.

The girl gathered up her notes and passed into the main office.

Again came the knock, more aggressive this time.

“Come in.”

The committee, headed by Morrissy, entered with shuffling feet.  Morrissy saw the Englishman and scowled.

“Well, gentlemen?” said Bennington, sitting on his desk and resting a foot on his chair.

“We have come to learn what you intend to do about this Britisher,” began Morrissy.

“I don’t recollect your face,” replied Bennington thoughtfully.  “How long have you been in the shops?”

“I’m not in your shops,” returned Morrissy blusteringly.

“In that case,” said Bennington mildly, “there’s the door.  I do not see how this matter concerns you.”

“Well, it does concern me, as you’ll find soon,” cried Morrissy, choking with sudden rage.

“I’ll give you one minute to make the foot of the stairs.  If you’re not there at the end of that time, I’ll take you by the collar and help you.”  Bennington drew out his watch.