One might have read therein some shifty and devious plan of Waldron's to dominate even Flint himself, to rule the master or to wreck him, and to seize in his own hands the reins of universal power.

But Flint, bending over his note-book and making careful memoranda, saw nothing of all this.
Waldron, an inveterate smoker, lighted a fresh cigar, leaned back, surveyed his partner and indulged in a short inner laugh, which hardly curved his cruel lips, but which hardened still more those pale-blue, steely eyes of his.
"All right," said he, at last.

"Enough of this, Flint.

Let's get back to town, now, and have a conference with Henderson.

That's the first step.
By tonight, the whole campaign of publicity must be mapped out.