Let me think, now; let me think." "Go ahead and think!" growled the Billionaire.

"Think and be hanged to you! _I'm_ going to act!" Waldron vouchsafed no reply, but merely eyed his partner with cold interest, as though he were some biological specimen under a lens, and smoked the while.
Flint, however, turned to his telephone and pulled it toward him, over the big sheet of plate glass.

Impatiently he took off the receiver and held it up to his ear.
"Hello, hello! 2438 John!" he exclaimed, in answer to the query of "Number, please ?" Silence, a moment, while Waldron slowly drew at his cigar and while the Billionaire tugged with impatience at his gray mustache.
"Hello! That you, Herzog ?" * * * * * "All right.

I want to see you at once.

Immediately, understand ?" * * * * * "Very well.