WORLD'S END

Robbie Budd made quantities of money - he never said how much, and perhaps never knew exactly - but he left a trail of it behind him. He liked the smiling faces of those who have suddenly been made prosperous. He needed a lot of people to help him, and that was the way he persuaded them - a little bit at a time, and collecting the service quickly, before the debt was forgotten!

He expected some day to have the help of his son at this money-making; and because, for all his gaiety and his cynicism, he was a far-seeing and careful man, he had devised a system of training for this, his first and most dearly loved child. It appeared quite casual and incidental, but it had been thought out and was frequently checked for results. Robbie Budd caused his son to think of the selling of small arms and ammunition as the most romantic and thrilling of all occupations; he surrounded it with mysteries and intrigues, and impressed upon the boy the basic lesson that everything concerned with it was a matter of most solemn secrecy. Never, never, was the son of a munitions salesman to let slip one word about his father's affairs to any person, anywhere, under any circumstances! "On the whole continent of Europe there is nobody I really trust but you, Lanny" - so the father would declare.

"Don't you trust Beauty?" the boy asked, and the answer was:

"She trusts other people. The more she tries to keep a secret, the quicker it gets out. But you will never dream of saying a word to anybody about your father's business; you will understand that any one of Beauty's rich and fashionable friends may be trying to find out where your father has gone, what contracts he's interested in, what cabinet minister or army officer he has taken for a motor ride."

"Never a hint, Robbie, believe me! I'll talk about the fishing, or the new tenor at the opera." Lanny had learned this lesson so thoroughly that he was able to recognize at once when the Conte di Pistola or the wife of the attache of the Austrian embassy was trying to pump him. He would tell his father about it, and Robbie would laugh and say: "Oh, yes, they are working for Zaharoff."

Lanny wouldn't have to hear any more; Zaharoff - accent on the first syllable - was the gray wolf who was gobbling up the munitions plants of Europe one by one and who considered the placing of a contract with an American as an act of high treason. Ever since he was old enough to remember, Lanny had been hearing stories of his father's duels with this most dangerous of men. The things Lanny knew about him might have upset every chancellery in Europe, if there had been any way to get them published.

When Robbie stepped off the train - he had come all the way from Bulgaria - both Beauty and Lanny were there to welcome him. He gave the latter a bear hug and the former a friendly handshake.'Hav-ing a wife in Connecticut, Robbie didn't stay at the house, but at the hotel near by. He and Lanny ran a race down to the boathouse to get into their swimming trunks, and when they were out in a boat, far enough from all prying ears, Robbie grinned and said: "Well, I landed that Bulgarian contract."

"How did you do it?"

"I made a mistake as to the day of the week."

"How did that help?" There were so many strange ways of landing contracts that the brightest boy in the world couldn't guess them.

"Well, I thought it was Thursday, and I bet a thousand dollars on it."

"And you lost?"

"It was last Friday. We went to a kiosk on the corner and bought a Friday newspaper; and of course they couldn't have had that on Thursday." The two exchanged grins.

Lanny could guess the story now; but he liked to hear it told in Robbie's way, so he asked: "You really paid the debt?"

"It was a debt of honor," said the father gravely. "Captain Borisoff is a fine fellow, and I'm under obligations to him. He turned in a report that Budd carbines are superior to any on the market. They really are, of course."

"Sure, I know," said the boy. They were both of them serious about that; it was one of the fixed laws of the universe that Americans could beat Europeans at anything, once they put their minds to it. Lanny was glad; for he was an American, even though he had never set foot upon the land of the pilgrims' pride. He was glad that his father was able to outwit Zaharoff and all the other wolves and tigers of the munitions industry. Americans were the most honest people in the world, but of course if they had to, they could think up just as many smart tricks as any Levantine trader with Greek blood and a Russian moniker!

VII