Over whiskey and soda in Barclay's chambers, Jean Adam pushed his
sinister plans a trifle further.
He was aware that Max had taken the opinion of a man he knew on the
Stock Exchange as to the probable value of the concession for the
Danube-Adriatic Railway, and that his reply had been highly favourable.
Therefore he was confident that such an opportunity of making money by
an honest deal Max would not let slip.
They had known each other several months, and Adam, with his engaging
manner and courteous bearing, had wormed himself into the younger man's
confidence. A dozen times Max had been his host, but on each occasion
the other took good care to quickly return the hospitality. To Max he
represented himself as resident in Constantinople. A few years ago he
had been fortunate enough to obtain a concession from the Ottoman
Government which, being floated in Paris, had placed him in a very
comfortable position; and he was now about to aim for bigger and more
lucrative things.
"You see," he was saying as he produced an official report to the
Foreign Office--a pamphlet-like document in a blue paper cover--"here is
what our consul in Belgrade reported on the scheme two years ago. Such
a line, he says, would tap nearly half the trade that now goes to
Odessa, besides giving Servia a seaport. It will be the biggest thing
in railways for years, depend upon it."
Max went to the writing-table, where the lamp was burning, and glanced
through the paragraphs of the consular report and several other printed
documents which his friend handed to him in succession. Then Adam
produced a map, and upon it traced the route of the proposed line.
"Well," Barclay said at last, rising and lighting a cigar.
"It all seems pretty plain sailing. I'll go to-morrow and see old
Statham about it. His secretary, Rolfe, is a friend of mine."
"No, Mr Barclay," said the wily Adam. "If I were you I would not."
"Why?"
"Well, if you do, you'll queer all our plans--both yours and mine," he
mused vaguely.
"How?"
"Sam Statham has agents in Constantinople--agents who could offer Muhil
double the price immediately, and the ground would be cut from under our
feet. Statham knows a good thing when he sees it, you bet, and if he
knew anything about this he wouldn't stick at a thousand or two."
"Then he doesn't know?"
"At present he can't know. It is a secret between Muhil, Osman, and
myself?"
"And what about the French people?"
"Of course they know; but they're not such fools as to let out the
secret," replied Adam.
"Well, what do you suggest?" Max asked, taking a pull at the long
tumbler.
"That we keep the affair strictly to ourselves. Once we have the
concession in our hands there'll be a hundred men in the City ready to
take it up. Why, old Statham would give us a big profit on it,
especially if, as you say, you know his secretary."
"That was his secretary's sister whom you met with me to-night," Max
remarked.
"What an extremely pretty girl," exclaimed Adam enthusiastically.
"Think so?" asked Barclay with a smile of satisfaction. "Why, of
course. A face like here isn't seen every day. I was much struck with
it when I first noticed you from the circle, and wondered whom she might
be. Rolfe's her name, is it?" he added with a feigned air of
uncertainty.
"Yes. Charlie Rolfe is old Sam's confidential secretary."
"Well, afterwards, through him, we might interest Sam," remarked Adam.
"What we have first to do is to get hold of the concession."
"But how?"
"By buying it."
The two men smoked in silence. Adam's quick eye saw that the affair was
full of attraction for the man he had marked down as victim.
"You mean that I should put twelve thousand into it?" he said.
"Not at all," responded the wily Adam at once. "In any case I do not
propose that you should put up the whole sum. My idea is that we should
put up six thousand each."
"And go shares?"
"And go shares," repeated Adam, knocking the ash from his cigar. "But
prior to doing so I think it would be only right for you to go out to
Constantinople, see Muhil, and ascertain the truth of the whole affair.
You have only my word for it all--and the letter. I quite admit that
they are not sufficient guarantee for you to put down six thousand. You
are too good a business man for that."
Max was flattered by that last sentence.
"Well," he said smiling, "I really think it would be more satisfactory
if I had--well, some confirmation of all these comments."
"You can obtain that at once by going out to Constantinople," declared
Adam. "You'll be out and home in ten days, and I'll go with you," he
added persuasively.
"Well, I shall have to consider it," the younger man replied after a
brief pause.
"There is very little time to consider," Adam said. "The French people
are at work, and if they raise the purchase price to Muhil we shall be
compelled to do the same."
"But we can get an option, I suppose?"
"I have it. But it expires in ten days from to-morrow. After that
Muhil will make the best terms he can with the French. The latter will
have to pay through the nose, no doubt, but they'll get it, without
doubt. Their Embassy is helping them."
"And how long can I have to decide?"
"To reach Constantinople in time we have six days more. We might then
take the Orient Express from Paris and just do it. But," he added, "of
course if your inclination is against the journey and inquiry I hope
you'll allow me to assess it before somebody else. Personally," he
laughed, "I can't afford to miss this chance of making a fortune. This,
remember, is no wild mining speculation: it's solid, bed-rock
enterprise. The Servians surveyed the line four years ago and got out
plans and estimates. There's a printed copy of them at the Servian
Consulate here in London. So it's all cut-and-dried."
"Well I hope, Adam, you'll allow me a little time to reflect. Six
thousand is a decent sum, you know."
"I don't want it until you've been out there and seen Muhil, Mr
Barclay," Adam declared. "Indeed, I refuse to touch it until you have
personally satisfied yourself of the _bona fides_ of the scheme. Muhil
himself must first assure you of the existence of the _irade_, and that
it is actually in is possession. Then I will put up six thousand if you
will put up the balance."
"And if it is more than twelve?"
"Why, we share the increase equally, of course."
"Very well. So far as it goes it is agreed," said Max. "It only
remains whether I go out to Turkey, or not."
"That's all. The sooner you can decide, the better for our plans," Adam
remarked. "Only take good care that old Statham does not learn what's
in the wind. You know him, I believe?"
"Yes, slightly. He's a queer old fellow--very eccentric."
"So I've heard," said the other, betraying ignorance. What would Max
Barclay have thought if he had witnessed that scene so recently when the
millionaire had glanced out of his cosy library and seen the shabby
stranger lounging against the railings of the Park? What, indeed, would
he have thought if he had witnessed old Sam's consequent agitation, or
overheard his confession to Rolfe?
But he knew nothing of it all. Adam had shown him the best side of his
nature--the easy-going and keen money-making cosmopolitan whose manner
was so gentlemanly and so very charming. He had not seen the other--the
side which Samuel Statham knew too well.
Adam, seated there in the big saddle-bag chair, in the full enjoyment of
the excellent cigar, knew that with the exercise of a little further
ingenuity he would make the first step towards the goal he had in view.
He was a man who took counsel of nobody, and even the old hunchback
Lyle, his closest friend, knew nothing of his object in drawing Max
Barclay, until recently a perfect stranger, into the fatal net spread
for him.
He smiled within himself as he calmly contemplated his victim through
the haze of tobacco smoke. The dock upon the mantelshelf had struck
two.
He took a final drink, slipped on his coat, and with a merry _bon soir_
and an injunction to make up his mind and wire him at the earliest
moment, he shook his friend's hand and went out.
Max sat alone for a long time, still smoking. In his ignorance he was
reflecting that the business seemed a sound one. Adam had not asked him
to put down money before full inquiry, and had, at the same time,
offered to put up half. This latter fact, in itself, showed that his
friend had confidence in the scheme.
And so, before he turned in that night, he had practically made up his
mind to pay a flying visit to the Sultan's capital. There could be no
harm done, he argued. He had never been in Constantinople, and to go
there with a resident like Adam was in itself an opportunity not to be
missed.
Meanwhile the astute concession-hunter, as he drove to Addison Road in a
cab, was calmly plotting a further step in the direction he was slowly
but surely following. His daring and ingenuity knew no bounds. He was
a man full of energy and resource, unabashed, undaunted, unscrupulous,
and yet to all, even to his most intimate friend, a perfect sphinx.
The second step in his progress he took on the evening of the day after.
In the afternoon, about four, a shabbily-dressed man called upon him at
his flat, and they remained together for ten minutes or so. At
half-past eight, as Marion was about to enter a 'bus at Oxford Circus to
take her up to Hampstead for a blow--a trip she frequently took in the
evening when alone--she heard her name uttered, and turning, found Max's
polite French friend behind her, about to mount on the same conveyance.
To avoid him was impossible, therefore they ascended to the top
together, he declaring that he was on his way to Hampstead.
"I'm going there too," she told him, although he already knew it quite
well. "Have you seen Mr Barclay to-day?"
"Not to-day. I have been busy in the City," Adam explained. He glanced
at her, and could not refrain from noting her neat appearance, dressed
as she was in a black skirt, white cotton blouse, and a black hat which
suited her beauty admirably. He knew that she was at Cunnington's, but,
of course, appeared in ignorance of the fact. He was most kind and
courteous to her, and so well had he arranged the meeting that she
believed it to be entirely an accident.