"It's like the French conjurer, gentlemen," said John Rawn smiling.
"He operates with his sleeves rolled up. 'There is no _déception_, by
friends,' says he. There's the whole works on the table right before
us. If it isn't a tremendous thing I'm the worst fooled man in all
this world, and I'll be the worst broke man in the world."
"Toot! Toot!" remarked a jovial voice from Standley's end of the
table. "Start her up again, son--I never get tired of seeing that
thing go like the Chinaman's cable car." Levity was a relief to them.
There is a certain strain, after all, in planning for the ownership of
a people, a republic.
Halsey again pushed down the lever, and again the dummy car ran around
and about the table on the curved track which had been laid for it.
"That's the travel of the future, gentlemen," said John, Rawn soberly,
at length. "They can take it or leave it. So can you."
IV
Silence fell on that group of gray, grave men. The thing seemed to
them uncanny, although so simple. They looked about, one at the other.
A sort of sigh passed about the room. There sat at the table men who
represented untold millions of capital. They were looking upon a
device which in the belief of all was about to multiply these millions
many-fold. Their hands already inordinately full of power, they
contemplated yet more inordinate power. They sat fascinated, silent,
sighing at the prospect, in a delicious half-delirium. The forehead or
the upper lip of each was moist.
"You can't get away from it, fellows," said Standley, of St. Louis.
"I've tried to, my best, and I can't. I felt just the way you do when
it was first put up to me--I didn't want to face the truth, it was so
big. As soon as these two men went away from me my feet got cold; but
if they hadn't come back, I think I'd have jumped in the river. I
_want_ to let go of this thing right here--it scares me. But I just
can't, that's all."
They made no comment. The atmosphere seemed strangely strained, tense.
An old and beardless man, thin, pallid, leaned against the table, his
eyes staring, his face almost corpse-like. No voice was raised in
criticism or indeed in comment, but all sat weighing, pondering. Rawn
was the first to break the silence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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