One afternoon it chanced that he was talking at
“If the people really want me,” Frampton said, “of course I’ll come and do what I can. But I doubt that the people in these parts will want me.”
“Oh, they want you in Stubbington,” Harold said. “Stubbington isn’t like the country. With you advising, we may get something really good.”
At that moment, the telephone bell rang. It was the Works, eager to speak to him. Could he possibly come up to the Works at once; a most strange and interesting thing had happened? The line was not working very well; but after a time he learned what it was. Some picronoxyllethaline had given off its characteristic gas, noxytoxythanatophaline, although not exposed to any sudden rise of temperature.
This was the important thing, in fact a very important thing.
“Golly,” Frampton said at once, “it’s done that, has it? I’ll come up at once. That may mean £100,000 clear profit, straightaway.”
“At the least,” the chemist said, “if we can spot the cause.”
“How did it come about?” Frampton asked.
“We don’t know,” the chemist said. “But seven of the girls in No. C.P.N.L. room suddenly breathed a lot of N.T.T. and each of them had a characteristic reaction, that is, they went temporarily mad and bit eleven girls and a fireman. Of course, they’re beginning to cool down now, but we’d be glad if you’d come up.”
“I’ll come up at once,” he said.
“You seem to have important news,” Harold said.
“Yes,” Frampton said, “it may prove to be important. It may mean that we shall be able to get a very precious gas without a frightfully costly middle process. I’ll have to go up for it, I’ll have to rush.”
Harold had not seen Frampton in action before; he was, therefore, impressed to see him now. He was offered, and took, a lift as far as Stubbington. He judged later that Frampton was in the car, streaking to Shipton, to catch the express, within a minute of his laying down the telephone receiver. He was glad to leave the car in Stubbington, for Frampton went like the wind.
“Send me a wire if you make the express,” he called.
“I shall make it,” Frampton called; and did.
This was the kind of thing he most enjoyed; this made him function; this spurred up his imagination. Why had this P.N.L. given off its precious N.T.T.? He went through the possibilities and branchings of the case; all exciting. He did not care a twopenny rush for the seven young women, but the police and the Press would be probing, and it was important that neither should discover the cause of the discharge. They might be on the brink of a staggering secret which would revolutionise war. It might be possible to make the enemy population raving mad before the declaration of war, at a cost of sixpence a street; fifty pounds a city. Of course, the reaction was not lasting, as yet, but it might be made so. Imagine, anyhow, a little N.T.T. dropped on an enemy cabinet meeting, or into the members of a general staff, at some secret emergency meeting. A little scattered at a meet of the Tunsters might not be amiss.
He caught the express in good time. He was at the Works before they closed. In half an hour he had assumed control of the business, and had a fairy story out for the evening papers’ late editions. He turned like a sleuth to the point at issue, the cause of the giving-off of the gas in this shed of the P.N.L. The best of the chemists were with him, but it was his shrewd brain that narrowed the field of enquiry for them. When he had got them fired with his own enthusiasm, he visited the sick in the hospital. The seven were now nearly normal, and without any memory of what they had done under the influence of the gas. Those who had been bitten were not seriously hurt. He had a good way with his workers; nearly always they stood by him in a time of trouble; they did so now. His old father, who had been sorely pressed in his young days, had told him never to forget the text: “Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.”