THE FINISHING STRAIGHT.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Torrington. "We have an important decision to
make. Barraclough is on his way home, presumably with the concession
in his pocket. Our opponents have made certain dispositions to prevent
his safe arrival--those dispositions they are prepared to remove in
consideration of a third interest."
Cassis snorted violently. Actual propinquity with danger, the clash of
mind against mind had in a large measure restored his self-possession.
"Preposterous," he ejaculated.
Hilbert Torrington continued.
"It rests with us to decide whether or no we will accept their terms or
take a chance."
"Don't forget the chance is Barraclough," cried Cranbourne, then
swinging round on Hipps, he demanded:
"What are the odds against him?"
"Steep," was the laconical rejoinder.
Cranbourne hesitated a bare second.
"Accept their terms," said he.
"In favour?"
"Of course in favour."
Nugent Cassis shook him by the sleeve.
"I am heartily opposed to their acceptance. It is absurd to suppose
that Barraclough is unequal to the task we have set him."
"Against?" queried Mr. Torrington.
"Emphatically against."
When it came to Almont's turn to vote his distress of mind was
pathetic. He stood alternatively on one leg and the other. He spoke
of "Jolly old public school traditions." He "doubted if the dear old
sportsman could endure the idea of being protected at such a cost."
"No, damn it all," he concluded. "Why should we split the prize?"
"We can't juggle with men's lives," urged Cranbourne.
"It's insanity to wilt at the last moment," said Cassis.
Up went Lord Almont's hand.
"I vote against," he said.
Rather piteously Cranbourne appealed to his chief. As Chairman of the
board Hilbert Torrington's vote counted as two.
"It rests with you, sir," he said.
The old man nodded and a queer smile played round the corners of his
mouth--the smile of a pranky schoolboy.
"But surely," he said. "No one will doubt the course I shall take.
One must always stand by one's colours. I accept the hazard Against."
He moved a pace or two forward and bowed to Van Diest. "Good-evening,
Gentlemen."
Until this moment no one had been conscious of Isabel's presence in the
room. She had been a silent agonised spectator, controlled by the
belief that the value of persons would eventually be proved higher than
the value of things. But the cold blooded refusal to protect her lover
at the price of a few paltry millions, appalled her beyond bearing.
She ceased to be a pretty child with a shock of curly hair and was
transformed into a veritable fury.
"You beasts, you brutes, you torturers!" she cried. "You'd let them
kill him without lifting a hand--you--you, ohh!"
Van Diest and the American moved toward the door, but she barred the
way.
"Pick up that telephone. You shall have your price."
"I can't think you command it," said Hipps.
"Can't you? Then listen. If you stop them--call off the men that are
after him, you shall be told the map reference of the place where he
found the radium."
There was a startled murmur from the company.
"He may have failed to get the concession. If that were so you'd have
an equal chance. Will you call them off if I give you that?"
"But you can't, my dear," said Torrington gently.
"And even if you could, you mustn't," snapped Cassis.
"Mustn't!" There was something magnificent in her scorn. "Why I'd
wreck the whole crowd of you for one sight of him. Here you----" and
she swung round on Ezra Hipps. "Write this down."
"Bluff," said he.
"D'you think I'd let the man I love carry a secret I didn't share?
Write this down."
It was Van Diest who stepped forward with "I take her word. Go on."
"Brewster's Series 19," cried Isabel. "Map 24."
Instantly a condition of chaos ruled. Cassis cried to her to stop "for
Heaven's sake." Someone else exclaimed "That European." "It covers
the northern area of----" and "Go on. Go on." Hipps was shouting. To
concentrate in the midst of such a din was almost impossible. She
covered her cars, closed her eyes, to force memory of the words and the
numerals that were to follow. "Square F. North 27. West 33."
"She's there," cried Hipps, and whipped out a pistol to cover Cassis
who was making for the telephone.
"No you don't. Stand away." He picked up the instrument and gave a
number. "That Phillips? Clear all roads."
It was all that Isabel wanted to hear, just those three words which
meant one man's safety at the possible price of a mighty fortune. It
meant nothing to her that the American was calling for "My man with a
suitcase at Charing Cross straight away. I hit this trail myself."
She was not even conscious of a medley of voices in the street below--a
series of cries and shouts--the blast of a police whistle. All this
was without meaning. Consciousness was slipping away and had almost
deserted her when the door was flung open and Anthony Barraclough burst
into the room. He stood an instant, chest out and with eyes feverishly
bright.
"Sorry I'm late, gentlemen, but I've done the trick--this packet----"
he rocked a little. "By Gad, I believe I'm going to faint." He
tottered forward into Isabel's arms and said--"It's you--how ripping!"
That was all.
Cassis pushed forward with the words:
"Has he got it--has he got it?"
"This is what you want, I suppose," said Isabel, and taking the letter
case from his pocket, threw it on the table. "He's fainted. Help me
get him to his bed."
Doran and she half carried and half dragged him from the room.
No one was aware of Auriole, who had entered just behind and stood now
with her back to the wall, biting her lip. After all, when a game is
won, pawns are relatively of little importance--except to themselves.
"Signed? Registered?" said Van Diest, edging forward.
Nugent Cassis held the crackling document before his eyes--a Concession
to Millions--and he answered between his teeth:
"Signed and registered."
"So," said Van Diest, with unexpected control, "we lose--Finish." But
his hands trembled as he turned away.
Ezra P. Hipps did not desert his post at the telephone until he heard
those words. Then he snapped viciously,
"Say, cancel those orders, Phillips--Wash out the lot."
It was too ridiculous at such a moment to contemplate the price of
victory, but that is precisely what Auriole did.
"And you've never asked--never given a thought to the real man--the man
who made it possible--who stayed out there on the road while----" She
bit back her tears and turned savagely on Hipps and Van Diest. "Oh,
God," she cried, "if anything has happened to him."
But nothing had--if you discount a little discomfort bravely borne. He
walked into the room even as she spoke. Dirty he was, dishevelled and
hollow-eyed, a very travesty of his former self. But there was a
spring in his bearing that fires of adversity had failed to rob of its
temper. He entered with a swing, a certain jauntiness--a dash of
_nonchaloir_--pushing his way through the group of astonished
financiers in the doorway and marching up to Van Diest and the American
with a very fine air of "you be damned" about the carriage of his head.
"Get out," he said, uncompromisingly. "And tomorrow morning I'm coming
down to Charing Cross to see you off by the Continental."
They both addressed him simultaneously and in very different tones to
the ones he had grown accustomed to during the past three weeks. The
word "cheque" figured largely in their proposals. Richard Frencham
Altar cut them short with:
"Cheque from you? No, thanks. I'll take the smallest coin in each of
your countries to wear on my watch chain. It'll remind me of my
dealings with two millionaires. That train goes at ten tomorrow
morning."
Ezra P. Hipps happened to see the light in Auriole's eyes as he and Van
Diest moved toward the door. It was quite unmistakable and from his
point of view, conclusive. He said nothing, however, and they passed
out in silence.
It is probable that Hilbert Torrington also read a meaning in the
girl's eyes for he was very active in marshalling his forces for
departure.
"I think, gentlemen," he said, "we might meet tomorrow to discuss our
obligation to Mr. Frencham Altar--an obligation by no means covered by
the small arrangement we made with him." He grasped Richard warmly by
the hand and there was moisture at the corners of his eyes. "What a
splendid boy you are," he said. "Lord, but youth and adventure is a
wonderful partnership, with a dash of romance thrown in as a prize.
It's been a great game--hasn't it? A real tough fight. Great fun.
Good night."
Even Cassis had something nice to say before they took their leave and
left the man and the girl together.
Then Richard looked at Auriole and grinned, perhaps because her
expression was so desperately serious.
"Couldn't you smile at a chap?" he asked.
She wrapped her cloak around her.
"You don't understand," she said. "Everything seems good to you at the
moment--even me."
He shook his head whimsically.
"Don't say me that piece," he begged. "It sounds horrid. Where are
you going?"
"I don't belong here," she answered.
"For that matter, neither do I, but I dare say I could extend my lease
for another half hour--even though it did expire at eleven o'clock."
She came down and faced him.
"Listen," she said. "I don't want to be a nuisance to you and I won't
be."
"You will be if you keep going to that door."
"I don't even know your name, but if you look at me like that, with
laughter in your eyes--if you play the fool at such a time as this--how
can I possibly keep my resolve."
"What resolve?"
"To go away and never come back."
"Come here," said Richard Frencham Altar, "come here at once."
"Oh, please," she pleaded. "Honestly, my dear, I'm not up to much and
I know you are going to think I am. Oh, what are you going to do?"
This because his arms had gone round her and he had raised her chin to
the level of his own.
"I'm going to start on the greatest adventure of all," he answered.
THE END.