"The description is fairly accurate," admitted Major White, without looking up from his paper.

"And I imagine you are going to raise--Hail Columbia!"

He looked at her severely through his gla.s.s, and said nothing. She nodded in a friendly and encouraging manner, as if to intimate that he had her entire approval.

"Take my word for it," she continued, turning to Joan, "Herr von Holzen is a shady customer. I know a shady customer when I see him. I never thought much of the malgamite business, you know, but unfortunately n.o.body asked my opinion on the matter. I wonder----" She paused, looking thoughtfully at Major White, who presently met her glance with a stolid stare. "Of course!" she said, in a final voice. "I forgot.

You never think. You can't. Oh no!"

"It is so easy to misjudge people," pleaded Joan, earnestly.

"It is much easier to see right through them, straight off, in the twinkling of a bedpost," a.s.serted Marguerite. "You will see, Herr von Holzen is wrong and Tony is right. And Tony will smash him up.

You will see. Tony"--she paused, and looked up at the roof where the doves were cooing--"Tony knows his way about."

Major White rose and laid aside his paper. Mr. Wade was coming down the iron steps that led from the verandah to the garden. The banker was cutting a cigar, and wore a placid, comfortable look, as if he had breakfasted well. Even as regards kidneys and bacon in a foreign hotel, where there is a will there is a way, and Marguerite possessed tongues.

"I'll turn this place inside out," she had said, "to get the old thing what he wants." Then she attacked the waiter in fluent German.

Marguerite noted his approach with a protecting eye. "It's all solid common sense," she said in an undertone to Joan, referring, it would appear, to his bulk.

In only one respect was she misinformed as to the arrangements for the morning. Tony Cornish was not coming to the hotel to fetch Mr. Wade and White, but was to meet them in the shadiest of all thoroughfares and green ca.n.a.ls, the Koninginne Gracht, where at midday the shadows cast by the great trees are so deep that daylight scarcely penetrates, and the boats creep to and fro like shadows. This amendment had been made in view of the fact that Lord Ferriby was in the hotel, and was, indeed, at this moment partaking of a solemn breakfast in his private sitting-room overlooking the Toornoifeld.

His lordship did not, therefore, see these two solid pillars of the British const.i.tution walk across the corner of the Korte Voorhout, cigar in lip, in a placid silence begotten, perhaps, of the knowledge that, should an emergency arise, they were of a material that would arise to meet it.

Cornish was awaiting them by the bank of the ca.n.a.l. He was watching a boat slowly work its way past him. It was one of the large boats built for traffic on the greater ca.n.a.ls and the open waters of the Scheldt estuary. It was laden from end to end with little square boxes bearing only a number and a port mark in black stencil. A pleasant odor of sealing-wax dominated the weedy smell of the ca.n.a.l.

"Wherever you turn you meet the stuff," was Cornish's greeting to the two Englishmen.

Major White, with his delicate sense of smell, sniffed the breeze. Mr.

Wade looked at the ca.n.a.l-boat with a nod. Commercial enterprise, and, above all, commercial success, commanded his honest respect.

They entered the carriage awaiting them beneath the trees. Cornish was, as usual, quick and eager, a different type from his companions, who were not brilliant as he was, nor polished.

They found the gates of the malgamite works shut, but the door-keeper, knowing Cornish to be a person of authority, threw them open and directed the driver to wait outside till the gentlemen should return.

The works were quiet and every door was closed.

"Is it mixing-day?" asked Cornish.

"Every day is mixing-day now, mein Herr, and there are some who work all night as well. If the gentlemen will wait a moment, I will seek Herr Roden."

And he left them standing beneath the brilliant sun in the open s.p.a.ce between the gate and the cottage where Von Holzen lived. In a few moments he returned, accompanied by Percy Roden, who emerged from the office in his shirt-sleeves, pen in hand. He shook hands with Cornish and White, glanced at Mr. Wade, and half bowed. He did not seem glad to see them.

"We want to look at your books," said Cornish. "I suppose you will make no objection?" Roden bit his moustache and looked at the point of his pen.

"You and Major White?" he suggested.

"And this gentleman, who comes as our financial advisor."

Roden raised his eyebrows rather insolently. "Ah--may I ask who this gentleman is?" he said.

"My name is Wade," answered the banker, characteristically for himself.

Roden's face changed, and he glanced at the great financier with a keen interest.

"I have no objection," he said after a moment's hesitation. "If Von Holzen will agree. I will go and ask him."

And they were left alone in the sunshine once more. Mr. Wade watched Roden as he walked towards the factory.

"Not the sort of man I expected," he commented. "But he has the right shaped head for figures. He is shrewd enough to know that he cannot refuse, so gives in with a good grace."

In a few minutes Von Holzen approached them, emerging from the factory alone. He bowed politely, but did not offer to shake hands. He had not seen Cornish since the evening when he had offered to make malgamite before him, and the experiment had taken such a deadly turn. He looked at him now and found his glance returned by an illegible smile. The question flashed through his mind and showed itself on his face as to why Roden had made such a mistake as to introduce a man like this into the Malgamite scheme. Von Holzen invited the gentlemen into the office.

"It is small, but it will accommodate us," he said, with a smile.

He drew forward chairs, and offered one to Cornish in particular, with a grim deference. He seemed to have divined that their last meeting in this same office had been, by tacit understanding, kept a secret.

There is for some men a certain satisfaction in antagonism, and a stern regard for a strong foe--which reached its culmination, perhaps, in that Saxon knight who desired to be buried in the same chapel as his lifelong foe--between him, indeed, and the door--so that at the resurrection day they should not miss each other.

Von Holzen seemed to have somewhat of this feeling for Cornish. He offered him the best seat at the table. Roden was taking his books from a safe--huge ledgers bound in green pigskin, slim cash-books, cloth-bound journals. He named them as he laid them on the table before Mr. Wade. Major White looked at the great tomes with solemn and silent awe. Mr. Wade was already fingering his gold pencil-case. He eyed the closed books with an antic.i.p.atory gleam of pleasure in his face--as a commander may eye the arrayed squadrons of the foe.

"It is, of course, understood that this audit is strictly in confidence?" said Von Holzen. "For your own satisfaction, and not in any sense for publication. It is a trade secret."

"Of course," answered Cornish, to whom the question had been addressed.

"We trust to the honor of these gentlemen."

Cornish looked up and met the speaker's grave eyes.

"Yes," he said.

Roden, having emptied the large safe, leant his shoulder against the iron mantelpiece and looked down at those seated at the table--especially at Mr. Wade. His hands were in his pockets; his face wore a careless smile. He had not resumed his coat, and the cleanliness of the books testified to the fact that he always worked in shirt-sleeves. It was a trick of the trade, which exonerated him from the necessity of apologizing.

Mr. Wade took the great ledgers, opened them, fluttered the pages with his fingers, and set them aside one after the other. Then Roden seemed to recollect something. He went to a drawer and took from it a packet of neatly folded papers held together by elastic rings. The top one he unfolded and laid on the table before Mr. Wade.

"Trial balance-sheet of 31st of March," he said.

Mr. Wade glanced up and down the closely written columns, which were like copper-plate--an astounding ma.s.s of figures. The additions in the final column ran to six numerals. The banker folded the paper and laid it aside. Then, he turned to the slim cash-books, which he glanced at casually. The journals he set aside without opening. He handled the books with a sort of skill showing that he knew how to lift them with the least exertion, how to open them and close them and turn their stiff pages. The enormous ma.s.s of figures did not seem to appal him; the maze was straight enough beneath such skillful eyes. Finally, he turned to a small locked ledger, of which the key was attached to Roden's watch-chain, who came forward and unlocked the book. Mr. Wade turned to the index at the beginning of the volume, found a certain account, and opened the book there. At the sight of the figures he raised his eyebrow and glanced up at Roden.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, beneath his breath. He had arrived at his destination--had torn the heart out of these great books. All in the room were watching his placid, shrewd old face. He studied the books for some time and then took a sheet of blank paper from a number of such attached by a string to a corner of the table. He reflected for some minutes, pushing the movable part of his gold pencil in and out pensively as he did so. Then he wrote a number of figures on the sheet of paper and handed it to Cornish. He closed the locked ledger with a snap. The audit of the malgamite books was over.

"It is a wonderful piece of single-handed bookkeeping," he said to Roden.

Cornish was studying the paper set before him by the banker. The proceedings seemed to have been prearranged, for no word was exchanged.

There was no consultation on either side. Finally, Cornish folded the paper and tore it into a hundred pieces in scrupulous adherence to Von Holzen's conditions. Mr. Wade was sitting back in his chair thoughtfully amusing himself with his gold pencil-case. Cornish looked at him for a moment, and then spoke, addressing Von Holzen.

"We came here to make a final proposal to you," he said; "to place before you, in fact, our ultimatum. We do not pretend to conceal from you the fact that we are anxious to avoid all publicity, all scandal.

But if you drive us to it, we shall unhesitatingly face both in order to close these works. We do not want the Malgamite scheme to be dragged as a charity in the mud, because it will inevitably drag other charities with it. There are certain names connected with the scheme which we should prefer; moreover, to keep from the clutches of the cheaper democratic newspapers. We know the weakness of our position.

"And we know the strength of ours," put in Von Holzen, quietly.

"Yes. We recognize that also. You have hitherto slipped in between international laws, and between the laws of men. Legally, we should have difficulty in getting at you, but it can be done. Financially----"

He paused, and looked at Mr. Wade.

"Financially," said the banker, without lifting his eyes from his pencil case, "we shall in the long run inevitably smash you--though the books are all right."