A
door at the end of the room stood half-open. She leaned toward it,
alertly listening.
"And you say this invention is your own, Kraus? Have you your patents?"
"My applications have all gone in and I have some of the patents. Yes,
sir, it's my own."
"Doran reported very favorably. With one or two changes--suppose we find
Doran, now." There came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, the
model will be quite safe here. I want Doran to point out one or two
things on our new loom. It will only take a moment. Then we'll bring
him back here."
Oh, would they come out through the waiting-room--thought Robin,
shrinking back. And what had Adam Kraus said?
But Mr. Granger had opened another door--Robin heard it close. She
stepped noiselessly toward that half-open door at the end of the room.
Her head was clear, her heart atingle.
He, Adam Kraus, had _dared_ to say the invention was his! The wicked
man, the traitor--to betray Dale's trust, his friendship!
The office was quite empty. And on the big desk, amid a litter of papers
and letters and books and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsy
box.
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