"And now you might tell me the purpose of this visit."
"I came to you because I need money."
Gorman's eyes snapped open--wide. He opened his mouth to speak. He
failed, tightened his throat and tried again. "You came here after
_what_?"
"Money. I'm broke, Lee. I haven't enough to meet my payroll."
"You expect me to bail you out--clean up your debts--put you clear?"
"I came after more than that. Merely bailing me out wouldn't help a bit.
I need three hundred thousand to put my rocket in the air."
Gorman collapsed gently back into his chair like a balloon mercifully
relieved of some of its content. When he spoke, it was with a slow,
controlled viciousness. "I've heard of guts, Joshua. I've heard of
gall--plain unmitigated nerve. But this tops anything--why, man, you
threw me out! You robbed me! You left me standing in the street with a
bookful of names and addresses under my arm--nothing more. Now you come
here and ask for money!"
"I'm glad you've done well, Lee. There was nothing personal in what I
did. I'm glad you've gone on to even bigger things than we would have
achieved together."
"You're glad I've done well! Why, you pious hypocrite! I ought to have
you thrown through the window instead of merely ordering you out!"
"There is no reason why I should expect any better treatment, Lee. But I
had to come here. You were my last hope. I had to ask."
Joshua turned slowly from the desk. He had taken but three steps when
Lee Gorman said, "Wait a minute. I'm curious. Are you _really_ still at
it--beating your brains out against that stone wall?"
"It's my dream, Lee. I've got to be the first man to put a rocket on the
moon."
"But now you're broke--washed up. What's with the dream now?"
"I guess it's finished." Joshua turned and took another step; but Gorman
was loath to let him go.
"Tell me," Gorman said. "What have you got in that briefcase?"
"Progress reports. Plans. I wanted to show them to you."