The words seemed wrung from him, and he colored as he
repeated them.
"Was that all?"
"Not quite. After I had convinced him that the trip was my own idea
he said: '_Well, well--it can do no harm; the process is an open
secret, anyway._'"
"You see I was right in my guess as to his feelings, Bobbie."
"Maybe."
"Of course I was; this proves it."
"I'm afraid so," whispered Bob miserably.
"Now all this may explain to you why I was so queer when we were at
the refinery this morning," Van continued, once more reverting to
the subject. "Do you understand it any better?"
"I can see you didn't want Mr. Hennessey to tell you much about his
processes."
"You bet I didn't. I was in an awful hole. I got that letter from my
father just before we left the house, and I was all upset over it.
I didn't know what to do. It was bad enough to be visiting you without
being shown all through your father's business plant as if I were an
honored guest. It didn't seem as if I ought to go at all. If your
father knew who I was he certainly couldn't want me to; and if he
didn't it was worse yet. At first I thought the only honorable thing
was to go straight to him and have it out; but I found I hadn't the
nerve. Then I thought I'd ride with you to the factory and not go
in. What I dreaded was that we might run into something that I
should have no right to see, and that was precisely what happened."
"So that was the reason you stopped Mr. Hennessey when he started to
tell us the chemical formula?"
"Yes.
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