BAITING THE TRAP.

One day in the early spring Mr. Williams sent an invitation to Dr. Meigs to dine with him, and after the meal they sat together in the study conversing; for the two men had become fast friends, and seemed to understand one another excellently.

“A curious thing has happened lately,” said the host, flicking the ash from his cigar with a thoughtful air, “and one of my objects in asking you over this evening is to tell you of it, and ask your advice.”

The doctor nodded and settled himself in his chair to listen.

“It is now some ten years ago that my attention was attracted by a sample of steel of such remarkable quality that I at once became interested, and after a time I managed to trace it to Bingham, where it had been made by John Carden, in his old factory. But the maker had gone from the town, and was reported dead, and on being referred to Mr. Jordan, at the bank, I learned that the process for making this wonderful product was now owned by him. I made Ezra Jordan a proposition for the exclusive use of the process, on a royalty basis, and having come to terms I proceeded to build these mills, and the houses for my workmen, and afterwards moved here with my family. All of this you already know. I confess that I have made a great deal of money since then, for certain manufacturers and machinists cannot do without my steel, which no other maker has been able to duplicate. I might mention, incidentally, that Jordan has also made a fortune out of his royalties.

“A while ago I confided to you my discovery that Jordan had deceived me in regard to the formula; but I didn’t worry much about that, because I knew that as long as I made money for him he would cause me no trouble. Now, however a more startling evidence of the man’s treachery has come to my knowledge. The Italian government requires a large amount of high-class steel for use in their naval armament, and I submitted samples of my product with the certainty that I would secure the order, which will amount to millions of dollars. Imagine, therefore, my chagrin at being informed that another sample of steel, even finer than mine, and with the same peculiar characteristics that can be produced in no other way than by the Carden process, has been submitted to them by an English firm, and at a lower price than I demanded. What do you think of that, Dr. Meigs?”

“I cannot account for it,” was the reply, “unless some one in England has stumbled upon the same process.”

“That is, of course, possible; but not at all probable. I am more inclined to think that Mr. Jordan has made another deal, this time with the English firm, and is drawing royalties from them as well as from me.”

“I see. You accuse the man of competing against himself.”

“In this case, yes. But whichever gets the contract will pay him his royalties, so he is safe. Otherwise he would not figure on our competing for I sell no steel abroad, and our duties prevent the English makers from sending it here.”

“Do you know the name of the English firm?” asked the doctor.

“Yes; the Italian commissioner was frank enough in stating it. My rival is the Atlas Steel Company, of Birmingham.”

“Why don’t you interview Jordan, and have it out with him?”

“My idea exactly. That is just what I want to do. But that will be an important interview, my dear doctor, and I want you to be present.”

“Me?” said the doctor, surprised.

“Yes. I’ve got a notion in my head that Jordan has defrauded the Cardens, as well as me, and you must stand as the friend of the Cardens, in case we get the man to admit anything. It can’t be possible, sir, that Jordan ever loaned John Carden money, for in those days he was poor. In that case why should we suppose that Carden, who was shrewd enough to become a successful inventor, would turn over all rights to his process to another man, leaving his family in utter poverty?”

“It doesn’t seem reasonable,” agreed the doctor.

“Let us take Jordan unawares, and accuse him of his villainy. Perhaps we may induce him to confess all, and then your presence as a witness would be valuable both to me and to the Carden family.”

“Very well; when do you want me?”

“Call at the office at three, tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have Jordan in, and we’ll see how much can be scared out of him.”

So the matter was arranged although Dr. Meigs had his doubts about their success. Chester D. Williams was evidently a man who liked to face a difficulty without fear, and bore his way to the bottom of it. And it really seemed that he had ample foundation for his suspicions of Mr. Jordan. But when the doctor thought it all over, and looked back upon Mr. Jordan’s regular and modest life, and remembered how admirable his conduct had ever been in the eyes of all who knew him, he hesitated to believe the man guilty of such bold and audacious villainy as was suggested by Mr. Williams’ recent discoveries.

Doubtless the man was by nature cold; and he might be heartless. It was within the bounds of possibility that he had robbed John Carden’s family of all those immense royalties earned by the process. But to sell the same process to an English corporation was altogether too hazardous a scheme for any man to undertake: unless, indeed, his past success had made him reckless.

In any event, the doctor doubted that sufficient proof could be advanced to convict Mr. Jordan. The inventor was dead, and no one else could prove that Jordan had no right to the process. And without proof the case was hopeless.

Yet promptly at three o’clock Dr. Meigs called at the steel works, and was admitted to Mr. Williams’ private office.

The proprietor was engaged at his desk when his friend entered, and after a nod in the doctor’s direction and a request that he be seated, he swung around and touched an electric button.

“Please ask Mr. Jordan to step here,” he said to the boy who answered the bell.

Such promptness fairly startled the doctor, but in a moment he collected himself for the coming interview, acknowledging to himself that Mr. Williams was right. If a disagreeable duty was to be performed, the sooner it was over with, the better.

Mr. Jordan entered with his usual stiff and solemn air, and gave the doctor a brief nod of recognition. Then he paused before Mr. William’s desk in a way that indicated rather than expressed an inquiry as to why he had been summoned.

The mill owner laid down his pen and looked his secretary square in the face.

“Mr. Jordan,” said he, “we have lost that order of the Italian government.”

“Why?” asked the other, a shade of disappointment in his harsh voice.

“Because the Atlas Steel Company of Birmingham, England, has offered the same steel as mine at a lower price.”

“Impossible!” cried the man, startled for once out of his usual apathy.

“No, it is true,” replied Mr. Williams, calmly. “The Atlas works is using the Carden process, and turning out a product even better than we are at Bingham.”

Mr. Jordan’s face was pale and haggard. He looked around with a hunted air, and then, seeing that both men were regarding him keenly, he controlled himself with an effort and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “How could they know of my—of the Carden process?” he asked, hoarsely.

“The answer is very simple,” said Mr. Williams, with admirable composure; “you sold the secret, in order to obtain a royalty from them, as well as from me.”