"He can't afford to pay the scale. It's ruinous. It eats up all profits. I know. I have it straight from his own office."
"But it doesn't wreck him. I want him wrecked. He'll meet the scale by raising the price of his product."
"He can't. Competition's too keen. He's not in the trust."
"Oh, he'll meet the situation somehow. He's got a long head. You should have had the strike. You've made a mistake."
Lamar laughed. "You're too impatient," he said. "You don't see the end of the plot. There's going to be a strike."
"Who says so?"
"I do."
"Haven't the men just signed a new wage-scale?"
"Yes, but there's going to be a strike just the same."
"On what ground?"
"Bricky Hoover's going to be discharged."
"How do you know that?"
"Never mind how I know it. I know it. Bricky's going to be discharged. He's an infernal agitator. He's the idol of the men. They won't see him punished. There'll be a strike within twenty-four hours after he gets his papers. You wait and see."
For a minute she sat quietly, turning the matter over in her mind. Then she looked up at him.
"Steve," she said, "you're a wonder." His scheme had become clear to her.
"I can do a good deal," he replied, "when there's the right inducement. In this case you're the inducement."
She paid little heed to his remark. She was again thinking. At last she asked, as if to assure herself of the fact:
"You say the new wage-scale is ruinous?"
"Yes, I know it. It carries him more than half-way to financial destruction."
