He wondered, rather uncomfortably, what he would do, under the

circumstances, if it were in his power to declare peace to-morrow.

In his office in the mill administration building, he found the general

manager waiting. Through the door into the conference room beyond he

could see the superintendents of the various departments, with Graham

rather aloof and detached, and a sprinkling of the most important

foremen. On his desk, neatly machined, was the first tentative

shell-case made in the mill machine-shop, an experiment rather than a

realization.

Hutchinson, the general manager, was not alone. Opposite him, very

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neatly dressed in his best clothes, his hat in his hand and a set

expression on his face, was one of the boss rollers of the steel mill,

Herman Klein. At Clayton's entrance he made a motion to depart, but

Hutchinson stopped him.

"Tell Mr. Spencer what you've been telling me, Klein," he said curtly.

Klein fingered his hat, but his face remained set.

"I've just been saying, Mr. Spencer," he said, in good English, but with

the guttural accent which thirty years in America had not eliminated,

"that I'll be leaving you now."

"Leaving! Why?"

"Because of that!" He pointed, without intentional drama, at the

shell-case. "I can't make those shells for you, Mr. Spencer, and me a

German."

"You're an American, aren't you?"

"I am, sir. It is not that. It iss that I--" His face worked. He had

dropped back to the old idiom, after years of painful struggle to

abandon it. "It iss that I am a German, also. I have people there, in

the war. To make shells to kill them--no."

"He is determined, Mr. Spencer," said Hutchinson. "I have been arguing

with him, but--you can't argue with a German."

Clayton was uneasily aware of something like sympathy for the man.

"I understand how you feel, Klein," he observed. "But of course you

know, whether you go or stay, the shells will be made, anyhow."

"I know that."

"You are throwing up a good position."

"I'll try to get another."

The prospective loss of Klein was a rather serious one. Clayton, seated

behind his great desk, eyed him keenly, and then stooped to bribery. He

mentioned a change in the wage scale, with bonuses to all foremen and

rollers. He knew Klein's pride in the mill, and he outlined briefly

the growth that was about to be developed. But the boss roller remained

obdurate. He understood that such things were to be, but it was not

necessary that he assist Germany's enemies against her. Against the

determination in his heavy square figure Clayton argued in vain. When,

ten minutes later, he went into the conference room, followed by a

secretary with a sheaf of papers, the mill was minus a boss roller, and

there was rankling in his mind Klein's last words.