“Did you persuade Dad not to be such an unmitigated idiot, Hugh?” asked the girl eagerly.
“I regret to state that I did not,” answered Hugh. “In fact, honesty compels me to admit, Brenda, that I no longer wonder at his allowing you to marry Algy. He may be the outside size in chemistry, but beyond that he wants lessons. Will you believe it, that at lunch today he suddenly removed from his pocket the notes of this bally discovery of his? He has been carrying them loose, along with some peppermint bull’s-eyes and bits of string!”
“Oh! but he always carries everything like that,” laughed the girl. “What is the old dear doing now?”
“He rushed away to commune with a German professor on carboniferous quartz and the atomic theory. Seemed immensely excited about it, so I suppose it means something. But to come to rather more important matters, I have invited him and Mrs. Goodman and you to come down and spend a few days with us in Sussex. We might even include Algy.”
“What’s the notion, old man?” murmured Algy. “Think he’s more likely to see reason if we take him bird-nesting.”
“It’s no good, Hugh,” said Brenda decisively. “Besides, he wouldn’t go.”
She turned to speak to a passing acquaintance, and Hugh bent over to Algy.
“He’s dam’ well got to go,” he said in a low voice. “He was being followed this morning when I met him outside the club, and he’s had a letter threatening his life.”
“The devil he has!” muttered Algy.
“If we can make him see reason and suppress his discovery, so much the better,” went on Hugh. “Personally, I think he’s a pigheaded old ass, and that it undoubtedly ought to be suppressed, but there’s no good telling him that at present. But if he won’t, it’s up to us anyway to look after him, because he’s utterly incapable of doing it himself. Not a word to Brenda, mind, about the letter or his being followed. He’s all right for this afternoon, and we’ll fix things up this evening definitely.”
And since the afternoon was all that an afternoon should be, and no one may ask for more than that and Ranelagh combined, it was just as well for the peace of mind of all concerned that no power of second sight enabled them to see what was happening in Professor Goodman’s laboratory, where he was discussing carboniferous quartz and the atomic theory with a celebrated German geologist.
III
In Which Strange Things Happen in Professor Goodman’s Laboratory
At just about the same time that Algy Longworth was dancing on the pavement in Brook Street and demanding admission to Drummond’s house, Sir Raymond Blantyre was holding a conference with the other members of the Metropolitan Diamond Syndicate. The proceedings were taking place behind locked doors, and had an onlooker been present he would have noticed that there was a general air of tension in the room. For good or ill the die was cast, and try as they would the seven eminently respectable city magnates assembled round the table could not rid themselves of the thought that they had deliberately hired a man to commit murder for them. Not that they admitted it even to themselves—at any rate, not as crudely as that. Mr. Blackton’s services had been secured to arrange matters for them with Professor Goodman—to negotiate for the suppression of his discovery. How he did it was, of course, his concern, and nothing whatever to do with them. Even Sir Raymond himself tried to lull his conscience by reflecting that perhaps the drastic measures alluded to in his interview at the Palace Hotel would not be necessary. And if they were—well, only a weak man wavered and hesitated once he was definitely committed to a particular line of action. After all, the responsibility was not his alone; he had merely been the spokesman for the combined opinions of the Syndicate reached after mature reflection. And if Professor Goodman was so pigheaded and obstinate, he must take the consequences. There were others to be considered—all those who would be ruined.
Just at first after his return from Switzerland such specious arguments had served their purpose; but during the last two days they seemed to have lost some of their soothing power. He had found himself feverishly snatching at every fresh edition of the evening paper to see if anything had happened. He had even found himself wondering whether it was too late to stop things even now, but he didn’t know where the man who called himself Blackton could be found. From the moment when he had realised in the restaurant wagon that the old German professor and Mr. Edward Blackton were one and the same person, he had not set eyes on him again. There had been no trace of him in Paris, and no trace on the boat. He had no idea where he was; he did not even know if he was in London.
His cheque had been presented in Paris, so he had discovered from his bank only that morning. And that was the last trace of the man he had interviewed at Montreux.
“I suppose there’s no chance of this man double-crossing us.” A dark sallow man was speaking and Sir Raymond glanced up quickly. “When all is said and done he has had a quarter of a million, and we’re hardly in a position to claim it back.”
“That was one of the risks we discussed before we approached him,” said Sir Raymond. “Of course there’s a chance; that is obvious on the face of it. My impression is, however, that he will not, apart from the fact that another quarter of a million is at stake. He struck me, in a very marked degree, as being a man of his word.”
There was silence for awhile, a silence
