fling sent it straight at Steve. Ducking involuntarily, Steve looked past his
upraised hands to see the object practically drifting at him. Grabbing, he
caught it and was amazed at its featherweight.
"Solid alumite," chuckled Treft. "Old Pettigrew gave it a bronze spray, as
he did with the Twelve Hours."
"The Twelve Hours?"
"Twelve full-sized statues representing the hours of the day," explained
Treft. "Being a sculptor, Pettigrew naturally turned his discovery to statuary.
It remained for us to recognize its commercial possibilities."
"For us?"
"I mean myself and my associates. In my letter to your company I stated
that I could supply a sufficient quantity of alumite for whatever tests might be
demanded. I take it that you supposed I had the alumite here."
Steve nodded.
"I have purposely furthered that impression," continued Treft, with a
smile, "even among my servants, in order to protect my fellow-investors, who own
the statues that I have mentioned. I have the formula" - Treft's smile broadened
- "but they have the alumite, that is, most of it."
Treft finished with a gesture to the bust that Steve was holding, to
indicate that it represented his only supply of the priceless alloy. Then,
folding his arms, Treft demanded in his blunt tone:
"Have I made my terms clear? If your company receives every ounce of
alumite in existence and finds that it meets requirements, will they pay my
price for the formula?"
Slowly, Steve nodded. Clamped between his hands, looking up at him with
accusing eyes, was the bronze sprayed face of old Absalom Pettigrew, the real
inventor of alumite, the substance in which his own likeness had been
perpetuated. Somehow Steve had the sinking feeling that Milton Treft, along with
his unnamed associates, had filched the old sculptor's discovery. Treft must
have seen something in Steve's expression, for the tall man promptly met the
situation.
"Poor Pettigrew is dead." Treft shook his head sadly. "Otherwise he would
share in this good fortune. He left no relatives, more's the pity, or we would
see to their future welfare. But we paid Pettigrew handsomely for his sculptures
and he entrusted his formula to us, hoping we would use it to benefit the world
of the future. You understand, of course."
Steve understood too well. First to benefit would be Treft and his
associates to the tune of a million dollars. Next would be Steve's company,
Associated Metallurgy, which would pay the million and promptly double its
investment. An obscure inventor named Pettigrew would be forgotten, so far as
profits were concerned.
"Since you will first receive all the alumite there is," reminded Treft,
narrowly, "no one can dispute your claim to the formula, once you acquire it. We
stand in back of our guarantee, to the full amount that Associated Metallurgy
will pay. In fact I suggested that the clause be included in the contract."
Clever of Treft to put it that way. It was up to Steve to take it or leave
it and if he left it some other company would probably buy alumite on his
terms, since he held the formula that might be anybody's. Since Steve was
working for the interests of Associated Metallurgy, his only choice was to take
it.
