e?" He undertook to speak mockingly,
but without complete success.

"There is. The layout of your platework is all wrong--out of line with
modern practice. You should have interchangeable parts in every tank.
The floor of your lower section should be convex, instead of flat, to
get the run-off. You see, sir, this is my line of business."

"Who is your engineer?" inquired the elder man. "I should like to talk
to him."

"You're talking to him now. I'm him--it--them. I'm the party! I told
you I knew the game."

There was a brief silence, then Mr. Peebleby inquired, "By the way,
who helped you figure those prints?"

"Nobody."

"You did that _alone_, since Monday morning?" The speaker was
incredulous.

"I did. I haven't slept much. I'm pretty tired."

There was a new note in Mr. Peebleby's voice when he said: "Jove! I've
treated you badly, Mr. Mitchell, but--I wonder if you're too tired to
tell my engineers what you told me just now? I should like them to
hear you."

"Trot them in." For the first time since leaving this office three
days before, Mitchell smiled. He was getting into his stride at last.
After all, there seemed to be a chance.

There followed a convention of the draftsmen and engineers of the
Robinson-Ray Syndicate before which an unknown American youth
delivered an address on "Cyanide Tanks. How to Build Them; Where to
Buy Them."

It was the old story of a man who had learned his work thoroughly and
who loved it. Mitchell typified the theory of specialization; what he
knew, he knew completely, and before he had more than begun his talk
these men recognized that fact. When he had finished, Mr. Peebleby
announced that the bids would not be opened that day.

The American had made his first point. He had gained time in which
to handle himself, and the Robinson-Ray people had recognized a new
factor in the field. When he was again in the Director General's room,
the latter said:

"I think I will have you formulate a new bid along the lines you have
laid down."

"Very well."

"You understand, our time is up. Can you have it ready by Saturday,
three days from now?"

Mitchell laughed. "It's a ten days' job for two men."

"I know, but we can't wait."

"Then give me until Tuesday; I'm used to a twenty-four-hour shift
now. Meanwhile I'd like to leave these figures here for your chief
draftsman to examine. Of course they are not to be considered
binding."

"Isn't that a bit--er--foolish?" inqu