Part 42 (1/2)
Wolf looked at her with hungry, admiring gaze.
”Perhaps you're right,” he said slowly.
”Of course I'm right!” she replied, ”and you know it. You've made him a martyr and a hero on the first day of his fall from power. Your true policy is just the opposite. Let him do what he pleases for a time.
Above all things don't put yourself in the position of his enemy. Your strength lies in standing as his patron and friend.”
”By Jove, Barbara,” Wolf cried, ”what a wise head on your little shoulders! Come, be honest with me now--you're not in love with this man?”
The girl smiled demurely:
”He is with me, I think,” she admitted.
”Yes, yes, of course--so we all are,” he cried, with a smile. ”But you have not accepted his love?”
”No.”
”I thought you had better sense. I'll change my order at your suggestion.”
”I knew you would,” she cried, joyfully.
Wolf sat down at his desk and wrote:
”Comrade Norman Worth is transferred from the field to the foundry, with permission, after his day's work, to employ his time in the shops perfecting any invention in which he may be interested.
”WOLF--_Regent_.”
He handed the order to Barbara.
”Take this to the youngster and tell him I did it at your suggestion, and hereafter give him a wide berth if you wish to be friendly with me.”
Barbara dropped her eyes and Wolf touched her chin with his coa.r.s.e, short fingers.
”A hint to the wise is sufficient, little girl. You understand?”
Barbara took the order, turned toward the door, paused and smiled coquettishly:
”I understand, Herman.”
She found Norman at work with Methodist John cleaning out a stable. To her amazement he was whistling and joking about something with the old man. She stopped and listened a moment.
”But what on earth do you want a lightning-rod for, John?” Norman asked.
”That's my secret, sir,” the old man answered, ”but I must have one--won't you get it for me?”
”I'm sorry, John, but I have no more power now in the State of Ventura than you have.”
”But didn't you get the million dollars and didn't you make all the money for 'em--a hundred and fifty thousand dollars on the cantaloups the others didn't have sense enough to plant? Surely they'll give you enough to get me a thirty-foot lightning-rod?”
”I'm afraid not, John, still I'll do my best. I don't like to press you for the secrets of your inner life, old man, but I've immense curiosity to know what you want with that lightning-rod? You say you're not afraid of lightning?”