Mr. King entered with a bundle of legal documents. "I suppose it's the
injunction you want to discuss," he said. "We've got the papers all ready.
It's simply great. Those fellows will be in a corner and will have to give
up. They can't get away from us. The price of coal will drop half a dollar
within a week, I'll bet."
"I'm afraid you are over sanguine," Howard said. "I've just been going over
the matter with my lawyer. But leave the papers with me. And--about the
news--be careful what you say. We've been going a little strong. I think a
little less personal matter would be advisable."
Mr. King was amazed and looked it. He slowly pulled himself together to
say, "All right, Mr. Howard. I think I understand." He laid the papers down
and departed. Outside the door he laughed softly to himself. "Somebody's
been cutting his comb, I guess," he murmured. "Well, I didn't think he'd
last. New York always gets 'em when they're worth while."
As the door closed behind King, Howard drew out the lowest and deepest
drawer of his desk. It was half-filled with long-undisturbed pamphlets and
newspaper cuttings. He tossed in the injunction papers. A cloud of dust
flew up and settled thickly upon them. He shut the drawer.
He went to the window and looked out over the city--that seductive, that
overwhelming expression of wealth and power.
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