After they had had their tea, the old man remarked: “And now about that matter of business, Mr. Budd.”
The hostess rose. “I am sure you gentlemen don't want an audience for your conference,” she said; and added sweetly to Lanny: “Wouldn't you like to come and see my beautiful tulips?”
Of course Lanny went, and so lost his chance to observe the old trader in action. He was taken into a fine garden, and introduced to a pair of snow-white poodles, beautifully groomed and shaved to resemble lions. He learned about the tulips, which were just unfolding their beauties: the bizarres, which are yellow marked with purple and red; the bybldemen, which are white marked with violet or purple; also a new kind from Turkestan. The Dutch people had cultivated them for centuries, and once they had been the basis of a great financial boom.
“Do you really love flowers?” asked the duquesa; and Lanny told about Bienvenu, and the court full of daffodils and bougainvillaea where he did his reading. He was used to ladies with titles, and not awed by them. He suspected that one who had the munitions king for a companion didn't feel entirely safe or happy, so he was moved to be kind. He mentioned Mrs. Emily, and found that the duquesa knew her, and had aided her war work; so Lanny told what she was doing at Sept Chênes, and added the story of M. Pinjon, the gigolo, which the duquesa found sympathique. She remarked that she would like to send a present to that poor man; since he played the flute, perhaps he might like to have a good one.
Time passed, and the two men of business did not appear. Lanny didn't want to be a nuisance to his hostess, who must have other things to do than to entertain a casually met youth. He told her he was used to getting along by himself, and she offered to take him to the library. He had seen many large rooms in fine homes, having walls lined with volumes de luxe which were rarely touched save to be dusted. The munitions king's were all behind glass, but on the table were magazines, and he said he would be happy with those. So the gentle lady excused herself. Lanny understood that she was far too rich to ask him to call again; and besides, maybe this was all just a matter of business, as Robbie had said!
VIII
At last the two emerged from their conference; both suave as ever — but you couldn't tell anything from that. The father and son strolled down the street, and Lanny said: “Well, what happened?”
Robbie answered, with one of his grins: “I thought he was going to cry, but he didn't quite.”
“Why should he cry?” The boy knew that he was supposed to be naive, so that his father would have the fun of telling it.
“I hurt his feelings by suggesting that we should require observers in the Vickers plants, to check their production under our licenses.”
“Is he going to let you?”
“He said it was a very serious matter to admit strangers to a munitions factory in wartime. I answered that they wouldn't be strangers very long; he would know how to become acquainted with them.” Robbie began to laugh; he enjoyed nothing more than such a battle over property rights — especially when he held the good cards close to his chest. “They really need our patents,” he said; “and, believe me, they won't get them without paying. Why should they?”
Lanny didn't know any reason, and said so.
“Well, the old devil thought he knew a number of them. He was horrified at the schedule of royalties I put before him; he said he had been given to understand that America wanted to help the Allies, not to bleed them to death, or drive them to bankruptcy. I said I hadn't heard of any bankruptcies among the hundred and eighty Vickers companies in England, or the two hundred and sixty of them abroad. He said they had cut their prices to the bone as a patriotic duty to the British and French governments. I told him it was generally understood that his companies were getting the full twenty percent profit allowed them by British law.
You can see it wasn't a conversation for a duquesa to hear. Was she nice to you?”
“Very,” said Lanny. “I liked her.”
“Oh, sure,” said the father. “But you can't like the consort of a wolf beyond a certain point.”
Lanny saw that his father was not going to like Basil Zaharoff under any circumstances. He said so, and Robbie replied that a wolf didn't want to be liked; what he wanted was to eat, and when it was a question of dividing up food with him, you had to have a sharp-pointed goad in hand. “We have paid out good American money, financing inventions and perfecting complicated machines. We're not going to give those secrets to Zaharoff, not even in return for a tea party and a smile from a duquesa. We're going to have our share of the profits, paid right on the barrel-head, and I'm sent here to tell him so, and to put before him a contract which our lawyers have constructed like a wolf trap. I said that very politely, but in plain language.”
“And what did you decide?”
“Oh, I left him the contracts, and he'll weep over them tonight, and tomorrow morning I'm to see his French factotum, Pietri, and he'll plead and argue, and demand this change and that, and I'll tell him to take it as it's written, or the Allies can get along with a poorer grade of machine guns.”
“Will they, Robbie?”
“Just stick by me the next few days, son, and learn how we businessmen pull wires. If they turn down my contracts, I know half a dozen journalists in Paris and London who will make a story out of it for a reasonable fee. I can find a way to have the merits of the Budd products brought to the attention of a dignified and upright member of Parliament, who wouldn't take a bribe for anything, but will endeavor to protect his country against the greed of munitions magnates and the bungling of War Office bureaucrats.”
IX
Robbie's next conference was with Bub Smith, the ex-cowboy with the broken nose who had come down to Juan three or four years previously and demonstrated the Budd automatic for Captain Bragescu. Bub had given up his job in Paris to work for Robbie, and had made a couple of trips to America in spite of the submarines. It was he who had brought letters for Lanny into France.
Now Robbie told his son that Bub had proved himself an “ace” at confidential work, and was going to have the job of keeping track of the lessees of Budd patents. “Of course Zaharoff himself is a man of honor,” said Robbie, with a smile. “But there's always the possibility that some of the men who run his companies might be tempted to try tricks. Bub is to watch the French plants for me.”
“Can one man keep track of them all?” asked the youth.
“I mean that he'll be the one to watch the watchers.”
Robbie went on to explain that it wasn't possible to carry on an industry without workers; and there were always some of these glad to give information in exchange for a pourboire. Bub would build an organization for knowing what was going on in munitions factories.
“Isn't it a rather dangerous job?” asked Lanny. “I mean, mayn't they take him for a spy?”
“He'll have a letter from me, and the embassy will identify him.”
“And won't the munitions people find out about him?”
“Oh, sure. They know we're bound to watch them.”
“That won't hurt their feelings?”
Robbie was amused. “In our business you don't have feelings — you have cash.”