We'll play our music _pianissimo_, Wally, with rare accompaniments to the tune of 'great public utility, benefit to the public health,' and all that--the same old game, only on a vastly larger scale.
"Every modern composer in the field of Big Business knows that score and has played it many times.

_We_ will play it on a monstrous pipe organ, with the world's lungs for bellows and the world's breath to vibrate our reeds--and all paying tribute, night and day, year after year, all over the world, Wally, all over the world! "God! What power shall be ours! What infinite power, such as, since time began, never yet lay in mortal hands! We shall be as gods, Waldron, you and I--and between us, we shall bring the human race wallowing to our feet in helpless bondage, in supreme abandon!" The ferry boat, nearing the Staten Island landing, slowed its ponderous screws.

The chauffeur flung away his cigarette, drew on his gauntlets and accelerated his engine.

Forward the human drove began to press, under the long slave-driven habit of haste, of eagerness to do the masters' bidding.
The young mechanic by the rail--he of the overalls and keen blue eyes--turned toward the bows, picked up a canvas bag of tools and stood there waiting with the rest.
For a moment his glance rested on the limousine and the two half-seen figures within.

As it did so, a wanton breeze from off the Island flapped back the lapel of his jumper.