WORLD'S END

He soon made it clear why he had asked for a conference. He looked at Robbie and then at Lanny, and said: "I suppose this bright little man never talks about his father's affairs?" Robbie answered that whatever mistakes the little man might make, he would never make that one.

Tactfully, and with many flatteries, the Greek trader declared that he had conceived a great admiration for the methods of New England Yankees. He wanted to do for Mr. Budd what he had done nearly forty years ago for the Maine Yankee named Maxim. He gave Mr. Budd to understand that he was prepared to make him an excellent proposition; he added that he meant those words in the most generous sense; he made a gesture of baring his heart.

Robbie answered with equal courtesy that he appreciated this honor, but was unfortunately compelled to decline it. No, it was not merely that he was under contract; it was a question of home ties and loyalties. Zaharoff interrupted him, urging him to think carefully; his offer would not merely satisfy Mr. Budd, but even surprise him. The business he was doing at present would be small indeed compared to what he could do if he would join forces with Vickers, Limited. The whole world was open to them "Mr. Zaharoff," said the younger man, "you must understand that Budds have been making small arms for some eighty years, and it's a matter of prestige with us. I am not just a munitions salesman, but a member of a family."

"Ah, yes," said the old gentleman. "Ah, yes!" Had this young fellow meant to give him a sword prick? "Family dignity is an important thing. But I wonder" - he paused and closed his eyes, doing his wondering intensely - "if there might be the possibility of a combination - some stock that might be purchased . . . ?"

"There is stock on the market," replied Robbie; "but not very much, I imagine."

"What I meant is if your family might see the advantage . . . ? We have Vickers in most of the countries of Europe, and why not in the States? Do you think that members of your family might care to sell?"

Their eyes met; it was the climax of a duel. "My guess is, Mr. Zaharoff, they would rather buy Vickers than sell Budd's."

"Ah, indeed!" replied the munitions king. Not by the flicker of an eyelash would he show surprise. "That would be a large transaction, Mr. Budd."

It was David defying Goliath; for of course Budd's was a pygmy compared to Vickers. "We can leave it open for the moment," said Robbie, blandly. "As it happens, my son and I have one advantage which we have not earned. I am under forty, and he is fourteen."

Never was war more politely declared, nor a declaration of war more gracefully accepted. "Ah, yes," said the munitions king - whose duquesa had no sons, only two daughters. "Perhaps I have made a mistake and devoted myself to the wrong industry, Mr. Budd. I should have been finding out how to prolong life, instead of how to destroy it. Perhaps thirty years from now, you may decide that you have made the same mistake." The speaker paused for a moment, and then added: "If there is any life left then."

A man who wishes to succeed in the world of action has to keep his mind fixed upon what he is doing; he has to like what he is doing, and not be plagued with doubts and scruples. But somewhere in the depths of the soul of every man lurk weaknesses, watching for a chance to slip past the censor who guards our conduct. Was it because this naive little boy had broken into the munitions king's life with his odd problem cf conscience? Or had the father touched some chord by his reference to age? Anyhow, the master of Europe was moved to lift a corner of the mask he wore. Said he:

"Have you noticed, Mr. Budd, the strange situation in which we find ourselves? We spend our lives manufacturing articles of commerce, and every now and then we are seized by the painful thought that these articles may be used."

Robbie smiled. If a civilized man has to face the secrets of his soul, let him by all means do it with humor. "It appears," he suggested, "the ideal society would be one in which men devoted their energies to producing things which they never intended to use."

"But unfortunately, Mr. Budd, when one has perfected some' thing, the impulse to try it out is strong. I have here a torpedo" - the munitions salesman held it up before the mind's eye - "to the devising of which my great establishment has devoted twenty years. Some say that it will put the battleship out of business. Others say no. Am I to go to my grave not knowing the answer?"

Robbie felt called upon to smile again, but not to answer.

"And this new project upon which we are all working, Mr. Budd - that of dropping bombs from the air! Will that be tried? Shall we have to take our armies and navies into the skies? And ask yourself this: Suppose some nation should decide that its real enemies are the makers of munitions? Suppose that instead of dropping bombs upon battleships and fortresses, they should take to dropping them upon de luxe hotels?"