Air Trust

by George Allan England

  CHAPTER IV.

  AN INTERLOPER.

  On the eleventh day after this interview between the two men who,between them, practically held the whole world in their grasp, Herzogtelephoned up from Oakwood Heights and took the liberty of informingFlint that his experiments had reached a point of such success that heprayed Flint would condescend to visit the laboratories in person.

  Flint, after some reflection, decided he would so condescend; andforthwith ordered his limousine from his private garage on WilliamStreet. Thereafter he called Waldron on the 'phone, at his Fifth Avenueaddress.

  "Mr. Waldron is not up, yet, sir," a carefully-modulated voice answeredover the wire. "Any message I can give him, sir?"

  "Oh, hello! That you, Edwards?" Flint demanded, recognizing the suavetones of his partner's valet.

  "Yes, sir."

  "All right. Tell Waldron I'll call for him in half an hour with thelimousine. And mind, now, I want him to be up and dressed! We're goingdown to Staten Island. Got that?"

  "Yes, sir. Any other message, sir?"

  "No. But be sure you get him up, for me! Good-bye!"

  Thirty minutes later, Flint's chauffeur opened the door of the biglimousine, in front of the huge Renaissance pile that Waldron'smillions had raised on land which had cost him more than as though hehad covered it with double eagles; and Flint himself ascended the stepsof Pentelican marble. The limousine, its varnish and silver-plateflashing in the bright spring sun, stood by the curb, purring softly toitself with all six cylinders, a thing of matchless beauty and rarecost. The chauffeur, on the driver's seat, did not even bother to shutoff the gas, but let the engine run, regardless. To have stopped itwould have meant some trifling exertion, in starting again; and sinceFlint never considered such details as a few gallons of gasoline, whyshould _he_ care? Lighting a Turkish cigarette, this aristocrat of laborlolled on the padded leather and indifferently--with more of contemptthan of interest--regarded a swarm of iron-workers, masons and laborersat work on a new building across the avenue.

  Flint, meanwhile, had entered the great mansion, its bronzedoors--ravished from the Palazzo Guelfo at Venice--having swung inwardto admit him, with noiseless majesty. Ignoring the doorman, he addressedhimself to Edwards, who stood in the spacious, mahogany-panelled hall,washing both hands with imaginary soap.

  "Waldron up, yet, Edwards?"

  "No, sir. He--er--I have been unable--"

  "The devil! Where is he?"

  "In his apartments, sir."

  "Take me up!"

  "He said, sir," ventured Edwards, in his smoothest voice. "He said--"

  "I don't give a damn what he said! Take me up, at once!"

  "Yes, sir. Immediately, sir!" And he gestured suavely toward theelevator.

  Flint strode down the hall, indifferent to the Kirmanshah rugs, the raremosaic floor and stained-glass windows, the Parian fountain and theAzeglio tapestries that hung suspended up along the stairway--all oldstories to him and as commonplace as rickety odds and ends of furnituremight be to any toiler "cribbed, cabin'd and confined" in fetid EastSide tenement or squalid room on Hester Street.

  The elevator boy bowed before his presence. Edwards hesitated to enterthe private elevator, with this world-master; but Flint beckoned him tocome along. And so, borne aloft by the smooth force of the electricmotor, they presently reached the upper floor where "Tiger" Waldronlaired in stately splendor, like the nabob that he was.

  Without ceremony, Flint pushed forward into the bed-chamber of themighty one--a chamber richly finished in panels of the rare sea-grapetree, brought from Pacific isles at great cost of money and someexpenditure of human lives; but this latter item was, of course, beneathconsideration.

  By the softened light which entered through rich curtains, one saw thefamous frieze of De Lussac, that banded the apartment, over thepanelling--the frieze of Bacchantes, naked and unashamed, revelling withSatyrs in an abandon that bespoke the age when the world was young.Their voluptuous forms entwined with clustering grapes and leaves, theypoured tipsy libations of red wine from golden chalices; while oldSilenus, god of drink, astride a donkey, applauded with maudlin joy.

  Flint, however, had no eyes for this scene which would have gladdened avoluptuary's heart--and which, for that reason was dear to Waldron--butwalked toward the huge, four-posted bed where Wally himself, now ratherpaler than usual, with bloodshot eyes, was lying. This bed, despite thefact that it had been transported all the way from Tours, France, andthat it once had belonged to an archbishop, had only too often witnessedits owner's insomnia.

  "Hm! You're a devil of a man to keep an appointment, aren't you?" Flintsneered at the master of the house. "Eleven o'clock, and not up, yet!"

  "Pardon me for remarking, my dear Flint," replied Waldron, stretchinghimself between the silken sheets and reaching for a cigarette, "thatthe appointment was not of my making. Also that I was up, lastnight--this morning, rather--till three-thirty. And in the next place,that scoundrel Hazeltine, trimmed me out of eighty-six thousand in fourhours--"

  "Roulette again, you idiot?" demanded Flint.

  "And in conclusion," said Wally, "that the bigness of my head and thebrown taste in my mouth are such as no 'soda and sermons, the morningafter' can possibly alleviate. So you understand my dalliance.

  "Damn those workmen!" he exclaimed, with sudden irritation, as a louderchattering of pneumatic riveters from the new building all at onceclattered in at the window. "A free country, eh? And men are permittedto make _that_ kind of a racket when a fellow wants to sleep! By God, ifI--"

  "Drop that, Wally, and get up!" commanded Flint. "There's no time forthis kind of thing today. Herzog has just informed me his experimentshave brought results. We're going down to Oakwood Heights to sea a fewthings for ourselves. And the quicker you get dressed and in your rightmind, the better. Come along, I tell you!"

  "Still chasing sunbeams from cucumbers, eh?" drawled the magnate,inhaling cigarette smoke and blowing a thin cloud toward the wantonBacchantes. He affected indifference, but his dull eyes brightened atrifle in his wan face, deep-lined by the savage dissipations of theprevious night. "And you insist on dragging me out on the same fatuouserrand?"

  "Don't be an ass!" snapped the Billionaire. "Get up and come along. Thesooner we have this thing under way, the better."

  "All right, anything to oblige," conceded Waldron, inwardly stirred byan interest he took good care not to divulge in word or look. "Give mejust time for a cold plunge, a few minutes with my masseur and mybarber, a bite to eat and--"

  Flint laid hold on his partner and shook him roughly.

  "Move, you sluggard!" he commanded. And Tiger Waldron obeyed.

  Forty-five minutes later, the two financiers were speeding down theasphalt of the avenue at a good round clip. Flint's gleaming car formedone unit of the never-ending procession of motors which, day and night,year in and year out, spin unceasingly along the great, hard, splendid,cruel thoroughfare.

  "I tell you," Flint was asserting as they swung into Broadway, atTwenty-third Street, and headed for South Ferry, "I tell you, Wally,the thing is growing vaster and more potent every moment. The longer Ilook at it, the huger its possibilities loom up! With air under ourcontrol, as a source of manufacturing alone, we can pull down perfectlyinconceivable fortunes. We shan't have to send anywhere for our rawmaterial. It will come to us; it's everywhere. No cost fortransportation, to begin with.

  "With oxygen, nitrogen and liquid air as products, think of thepossibilities, will you? Not an ice-plant in the country could competewith us, in the refrigerating line. With liquid air, we could sweep thatmarket clean. By installing it on our fruit cars and boats, and our beefcars, the saving effected in many ways would run to millions. The saleof nitrogen, for fertilizer, would net us billions. And, above all, thecontrol of the world's air supply, for breathing, would make us theabsolute, undisputed masters of mankind!

  "We'd have the world by the windpipe. Its very life-breath would be atour disposal. Ha! What about
revolution, then? What about populardiscontent, and stiff-necked legislators, and cranky editors? What aboutcommercial and financial rivals? What about these damned Socialists,with their brass-lunged bazoo, howling about monopoly and capitalism andall the rest of it? Eh, what? Just one squeeze," here Flint closed hiscorded, veinous fingers, "just one tightening of the fist, and--allover! We win, hands down!"

  "Like shutting the wind off from a runaway horse, eh?" suggestedWaldron, squinting at his cigar as though to hide the involuntary gleamof light that sparkled in his narrow-set eyes.

  "Precisely!" assented Flint, smiling his gold-toothed smile. "Thewildest bolter has got to stop, or fall dead, once you close hisnostrils. That's what we'll do to the world, Wally. We'll get it by thethroat--and there you are!"

  "Yes, there we are," repeated Waldron, "but--"

  "But what, now?"

  Waldron did not answer, for a moment, but squinted up at the tallbuildings, temples of Mammon and of Greed, filled from pave to cornicewith toiling, sweated hordes of men and women, all laboring forCapitalism; many of them, directly or indirectly, for him. Then, as thelimousine slowed at Spring Street, to let a cross-town car pass--a carwhose earnings he and Flint both shared, just as they shared those ofevery surface and subway and "L" car in the vast metropolis--he said:

  "Have you weighed the consequences carefully, Flint? Quite carefully?This thing of cornering all the oxygen is a pretty big proposition. Doyou think you really ought to undertake it?"

  "Why not?"

  "Have you considered the frightful suffering and loss of life it mightentail? Almost certainly would entail? Are you quite sure you _want_ totake the world by the throat and--and choke it? For money?"

  "No, not for money, Waldron. We're both staggering under money, as itis. But power! Ah, that's different!"

  "I know," admitted Waldron. "But ought we--you--to attempt this, evenfor the sake of universal power? Your plan contemplates a monopoly suchthat everybody who refused or was unable to buy your product would, atbest, have to get along with vitiated air, and at worst would have tostifle. Do you really think we ought to undertake this?"

  Keenly he eyed Flint, as he thus sounded the elder man's inhumandetermination. Flint, fathoming nothing of his purpose, retorted withsome heat:

  "Ha! Getting punctilious, all at once, are you? Talk ethics, eh? Wherewere your scruples, a year ago, when people were paying 25 cents a loaffor bread, because of that big wheat pool you put through? How about theoil you've just lately helped me boost by a 20 per cent. increase? Andwhen the papers--though mostly those infernal Socialist or Anarchistpapers, or whatever they were--shouted that old men and women werefreezing in attics, last winter, what then? Did you vote to arbitratethe D.K. coal strike? Not by a jugful! You stood shoulder to shoulderwith me, then, Wally, while _now_--!"

  "It's a bit different, now," interposed "Tiger," with an evil smile,still leading his partner along. "Since then I've had the--ah--theextreme happiness to become engaged to your daughter, Catherine. Newthoughts have entered my mind. I've experienced a--a--"

  "You quitter!" burst out Flint. "No, by God! you aren't going to putthis thing over on me. I'll have no quitter for _my_ son-in-law! Wally,I'm astonished at you. Astonished and disappointed. You're not yourself,this morning. That eighty-six thousand you dropped last night, hasshaken your heart. Come, come, pull together! Where's your nerve, man?Where's your nerve?"

  Waldron answered nothing. In silence the partners watched the press oftraffic, each busy with his own thoughts, Waldron waiting for Flint toreopen fire on him, and the Billionaire decided to say no more till hisassociate should make some move. Thus the limousine reached the StatenIsland ferry, that glorious monument of municipal ownership wrecked byTammany grafting. In silence they smoked while the car rolled down theincline and out onto the huge ferry boat. Then, as the crowded craft gotunder way, a minute later, both men left the car and strolled to therail to watch the glittering sparkle of the sunlight on the harbor; theteeming commerce of the port; the creeping liners and busy tugs; thetowering figure of Liberty, her flameless torch held far aloft inmockery.

  Suddenly Waldron spoke.

  "You can't do it, I tell you!" said he, waving an eloquent hand towardthe sky. "It's too big, the air is, as I said before. Too damned big!Own coal and copper, if you will, and steel and ships, here; own thosebuildings back there," with a gesture at the frowning line ofskyscrapers buttressing Manhattan, "but don't buck the impossible! Andincidentally, Flint, don't misunderstand me, either. When I asked you ifwe _ought_ to try it, I merely meant, would it be _safe_? The world,Flint, is a dangerous toy to play with, too hard. The people areperilous baubles, if you step on their corns a bit too often or tooheavily. Every Caesar has a Brutus waiting for him somewhere, with aclub.

  "Once let the unwashed get an idea into their low brows, and you can'ttell where it may lead them. Even a rat fights, in its last corner.These human rats of ours have been getting a bit nasty of late. True,they swallowed the Limited Franchise Bill, three years ago, with only alittle futile protest, so that now we've got them politically hamstrung.True, there's the Dick Military Bill, recently enlarged and perfected,so they can't move a hand without falling into treason andcourt-martial. True again, they've stood for the Censorship and theNational Mounted Police--the Grays--all in the last year. But how muchmore will they stand, eh? You close your hand on their windpipes, and byGod! something may happen even yet, after all!"

  Flint snapped his fingers with contempt.

  "Machine guns!" was all he said.

  "Yes, of course," answered Waldron. "But there may be life in the oldbeast yet. They may yet kick the apple cart over--and us with it. Younever can tell. And those infernal Socialists, always at it, night andday, never letting up, flinging firebrands into the powder magazine!_Sometime_ there's going to be one hell of a bang, Flint! And when itcomes, _suave qui peut_! So go slow, old man--go damned slow, that's allI've got to say!"

  "On the contrary," said Flint, blinking in the golden spring sunshine ashe peered out over the swashing brine at a raucous knot of gulls, "onthe contrary, Wally, I'm going to push it as fast as the Lord will letme. You can come in, or not, as you see fit--but remember this, noquitter ever gets a daughter of mine! And another thing; we're in theyear 1921, now, not 1910 or 1915. Developments, political and otherwise,have moved swiftly, these few years past. Then, there might have beentrouble. To-day, there can't be. We've got things cinched too tight forthat!

  "Ten years ago, they might have had our blood, the people might, orgiven us a hemp-tea party in Wall Street. today, all's safe. Come, bea man and grip your courage! We can put the initial stages through inabsolute secrecy--and then, once we get our clutch on the world'sbreath, what have we to fear?"

  "Go slow, Flint!"

  "Nonsense! Oxygen is life itself. There's no substitute. Vitiate the airby removing even 10 per cent. of it, and the world will lick our bootsfor a chance to breathe! Everybody's got to have oxygen, all the wayfrom kings and emperors down to the toiling cattle, the Henry Dubbs, asI believe they're commonly called in vulgar speech. Shut off the air,and 'the captains and the kings' will run to heel like the rabbleitself. Run to heel, and pay for the privilege of doing it! We've gotthe universities, press, churches, laws, judges, army and navy andeverything already in our hands. We'll be secure enough, no fear!"

  "Shhhhh!" And Waldron nudged the Billionaire with his elbow.

  In his excitement, Flint had permitted his voice to rise, a little. Notfar from him, leaning on the rail, a stockily built young fellow inoveralls, a cap pulled down firmly over his well-shaped head, wasapparently watching the gulls and the passing boats, with eyes no lessblue than the bay itself; eyes no less glinting than the sunlight on thewaves. He seemed to be paying no heed to anything but what lay beforehim. But "Tiger" Waldron, possessed of something of the instinct of thebeast whose name he bore, subconsciously sensed a peril in his nearness.The man's ear--if unusually quick--might, just _might_ possibly havecaught a
word or two meant for no interloper. And at that thought,Waldron once more nudged his partner.

  "Shhh!" he repeated, "Enough. We can finish this, in the limousine."

  Flint looked at him a moment, in silence, then nodded.

  "Right you are," said he. And both men climbed back into the closed car.

  "You never can tell what ears are primed for news," said Waldron."Better take no chances."

  "Before long, we can throw away all subterfuge," the Billionaire repliedas he shut the door. "But for now, well, you're correct. Once our grasptightens on the windpipe of the world, we're safe. From our office inWall Street you and I can play the keys of the world-machine as anorganist would finger his instrument. But there must be no leak; nopublicity; no suspicion aroused. We'll play our music _pianissimo_,Wally, with rare accompaniments to the tune of 'great public utility,benefit to the public health,' and all that--the same old game, only ona vastly larger scale.

  "Every modern composer in the field of Big Business knows that score andhas played it many times. _We_ will play it on a monstrous pipe organ,with the world's lungs for bellows and the world's breath to vibrate ourreeds--and all paying tribute, night and day, year after year, all overthe world, Wally, all over the world!

  "God! What power shall be ours! What infinite power, such as, since timebegan, never yet lay in mortal hands! We shall be as gods, Waldron, youand I--and between us, we shall bring the human race wallowing to ourfeet in helpless bondage, in supreme abandon!"

  The ferry boat, nearing the Staten Island landing, slowed its ponderousscrews. The chauffeur flung away his cigarette, drew on his gauntletsand accelerated his engine. Forward the human drove began to press,under the long slave-driven habit of haste, of eagerness to do themasters' bidding.

  The young mechanic by the rail--he of the overalls and keen blueeyes--turned toward the bows, picked up a canvas bag of tools and stoodthere waiting with the rest.

  For a moment his glance rested on the limousine and the two half-seenfigures within. As it did so, a wanton breeze from off the Islandflapped back the lapel of his jumper. In that brief instant one mighthave seen a button pinned upon his blue flannel shirt--clasped hands,surrounded by the legend: "Workers of the World, Unite!"

  But neither of the plutocrats observed this; nor, had they seen, wouldthey have understood.

  And whether the sturdy toiler had overheard aught of their infernalconspiring--or, having heard it, grasped its dire and criminalsignificance--who, who in all this weary and toil-burdened world, couldsay?