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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Air Trust"


Waldron nodded approval.
"Just like that," he echoed, "and then some!"
"Go, now!" Flint commanded, pointing at the door. "Inside an hour, I
want some reports, and I want them to be satisfactory. If you and Supple
can't get things open again, and start the troops and machine-guns
before then, look out! That's all I've got to say. Now, _go_!"


CHAPTER XXXIII.
"NOW COMES THE HOUR SUPREME."

Hardly had the secret-service man taken his leave, slinking away like a
whipped cur, yet with an ugly snarl that presaged evil, when Herzog
appeared.
"Come here," said Flint, curtly, heated with his burst of passion.
"Yes, sir," the scientist replied, approaching. "What is it, sir?"
Still shifty and cringing was he, in presence of the masters; though
with the men beneath him, at the vast plant--and now his importance had
grown till he controlled more than eight thousand--rumor declared him an
intolerable tyrant.
"Tell me, Herzog, what's the condition of the plant, at this present
moment?"
"Just how do you mean, sir?"
"Suppose there were to be trouble, of any kind, how are we fixed for it?
How's the oxygen supply, and--and everything? Good God, man, unlimber!
You're paid to know things and tell 'em.


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