“Look out for Gwen,” gasped French, as he dragged himself over to where Molly Moran lay in a motionless heap against the deckhouse wall.
Carter locked the cabin door, then turned to help French with the unconscious girl. They stretched her out on the deck and bathed her face and hands.
“Only stunned, I think,” French went on hoarsely. “I suppose you realize, Carter, that if she hadn’t been such a plucky one you and I would be down in Davy Jones’s locker now. You owe your life to her, man, and so do I.”
“I didn’t see just what happened. It was all over and we were scrapping round before I knew where I was.”
“It’s clear enough what happened. They had locked her in the cabin and when Gwen went to start the engine she didn’t wait to close the door. Molly dashed out and knocked up this beauty’s hand as he was firing. It was a close thing, Carter. I felt a bullet pass my head. Ah, there. Thank God for that!”
Molly had opened her eyes and was making a pathetic attempt to smile. At sight of it French forgot himself in the most lamentable manner. Fortunately no one who mattered was there to see his lapse. French—alas that it must be recorded!—caught the girl up in his arms and implanted not one but two hearty kisses on her mouth.
“My word, Molly, but you’re the goods!” he declared in rather shaky tones. “If I was about a hundred years younger and there was no Mrs. French you’d be listening to a proposal of matrimony. You’re really nothing the worse, child?”
And the abandoned creature, instead of indignantly protesting against his conduct and demanding a commission of inquiry into the whole circumstances, smiled up into his face and agreed that, everything considered, she was really very well indeed.
XIX
Conclusion
Little more remains to be told.
When Gwen Lestrange, to give her the name by which she had been known to French—she was really Mrs. James Sibley—saw from the cabin the turn affairs had taken, she surrendered at discretion. It appeared that there were no other members of the gang, and before morning all four prisoners were safely lodged in the cells.
With the additional knowledge he now possessed, French immediately began a more detailed inquiry into their misdeeds and before long the entire details of the coining scheme were revealed.
It seemed that Jim Sibley had long been convinced as to the possibility of profitably counterfeiting silver coins. Even with these composed of nearly pure silver he believed the thing could be done, but the passing of the Act of reducing the proportion of pure silver to fifty percent and the subsequent fall in the price of silver left no doubt in his mind. When therefore he found himself dismissed from the Mint it had occurred to him that an auspicious time had arrived to test the truth of his convictions.
He was up, however, against one overwhelming difficulty. He had no capital and the inception of his scheme required what was to him a big sum. For a time his plans hung fire and then he saw his way.
From some of his dubious acquaintances he had heard from time to time of a Mr. Curtice Welland, or, as he then called himself, Hervey Westinghouse. Welland, to give him the name he afterwards took, was looked upon by the fraternity of the underworld as an example of a strikingly successful career. He was reported to live by blackmail and it was hinted that on different occasions he had paid large sums for “jobs,” mostly the burglary of some well-known persons’ houses for letters of a profitable type. Sibley came to the conclusion that if Welland could be interested in his scheme, the necessary capital would materialize. He introduced himself, sounded the other, and to make a long story short, the firm of Sibley, Sibley & Welland came into being.
When they came to work out the details they found that a fourth member would be required. Here again Welland filled the breach. In his toils was a man called Webster, afterwards “Style.” Owing to an irregularity in connection with the signature of a cheque, Style had handed over his freedom to Welland and he was now told what he must do. Unwillingly Style came in and the quartet started work.
The necessary machines were ordered to be sent to certain ports in the names of various foreign medal making firms, to be kept till called for. There Style, in the guise of an emissary from the foreign firms, obtained them, ostensibly to arrange for their shipment. In reality he ran them in his car to the house near Guildford, which in the meantime had been rented by the Sibleys.
Some means of buying silver without arousing suspicion in the trade being an essential, the silversmiths’ works was purchased, Style becoming the “manager.” All the members of the staff who showed any intelligence were dispensed with, enough being retained merely to keep the place open. Style bought the silver in the name of Theobald & Grudgin and secretly transferred what Sibley required to his garage, bringing it home to Guildford in the car.
The guise of an author enabled Sibley to withdraw himself during long periods on each day, and his wife helped him with the manufacture of the coins. It was considered unsafe for either of these two or Style to take part in their distribution, so this was undertaken by Welland in the way French had already discovered.
Every morning and night, while passing along a quiet stretch of byroad, Style changed the number of his car and slightly altered
