corner of the office. It was an old safe for which Chet had no particular use,
since he kept nothing of great value in the office. In fact, Chet hadn't opened
the safe for weeks.
He wouldn't be opening it now, except for the fact that the safe contained
some laboratory equipment, Bunsen burner, test tubes and other common items.
Being one of the few men who knew what went into Pyrolac from start to finish,
Chet wouldn't need more than simple apparatus to probe the muddy emulsion in the
glass on the desk.
As he squatted in front of the safe, Chet took another glance from the
window. Again, his eyes bothered him. Blackness, like a sheaf of life, flitted
away from the door of a box car as two men approached it. Odd, that illusion, as
though some black-garbed ghost had been making an inspection of its own, to
certify the job that humans were about to do!
So quickly did the shape merge with shrouding darkness that Chet
immediately forgot it. He wasn't even bothered because the imaginary figure had
seemingly glided toward the door that led from shipping room to loading
platform. Chet simply rubbed his eyes, looked at the combination slip, and
turned the dial of the safe.
When it came to friends or enemies, Chet wouldn't worry about ghosts or
optical illusions. He'd depend on Thorneau to see that he had a fair hearing,
when he argued this question with Marquette. To prepare for the renewal of
hostilities in the president's office, it was Chet's present task to find out
all he could about the glass of inferior Pyrolac.
Once Chet tested that stuff, Marquette could do the same with the
remainder, the contents of the gallon can that Biggs had on his desk. Whatever
Chet's analysis, they'd find out it was right. Such was Chet's thought when he
swung the safe door wide.
Therewith, Chet's thinking machinery quit cold.
IN the safe, crowding Chet's few belongings, was a squatly, solid implement
that Chet had never seen before. It looked like one of the capping machines used
in the Pyrolac factory, except that those were huge, whereas this was portable.
Moreover, this device wasn't used for capping containers. If it had a name,
it could be properly termed a "needler."
The thing had an arched base, with clamps that could affix it to the belt
line. There was a metal regulator forming a semicircle shaped to the
circumference of a gallon can. The device was just the right height, too, and
when Chet pressed a lever that he saw on top, two things happened.
Down from the thick flat top came an array of needle points, the spikers.
Up went the regulator, automatically. When Chet raised the lever, needles and
regulator reversed their direction. It was all so simple that Chet could picture
the rest.
With this device planted on the belt, one man could use the lever as fast
as the gallon cans came through. The regulator would stop each can, the needles
would spike it, and the container would be on the way without a stop, for Chet
saw that the regulator worked on an eccentric that would swing it forward with
every catch it made.
One man alone could use this device and get away with it, Chet Conroy
himself!
