George timidly touched the castles he had been building: “Bill, where do I—where do Mary and I come in?”
Bill clapped his hands together. “Why, my good old buck, don't you see?-don't you realise?-you get this L500. Just do you, eh?”
“Runnygate!” George burst out with a violent jerk; clasped his Mary in an immense hug.
“Runnygate!” came thickly from his Mary, face squashed against this splendid fellow.
When they unlocked my blushing Mary suddenly paled: “Oh, but you, Mr. Wyvern—you found it really.”
“Not much,” Bill declared. “Not likely. You found it. I couldn't have the reward, anyway. I'm one of the staff.” He repeated the fine words: “One of the staff.”
She made to thank him. “Besides,” he interrupted her, “I'll make a lot out of it. I'm doing awfully well. The chief was awfully pleased with the way I ran that Rose of Sharon job. Of course this is twice as big a splash, because Vivian Howard's mixed up in it. Look what a boost it is for our new serial—look what a tremendous ad. it is for the paper! Directly Howard came to us the editor dropped the Rose like a hot coal; plumped for this and put me in charge. Now I've pulled it off, just think how bucked up he'll be! It's a licker, George—a licker all round.”
“Bill,” George said, “I can't speak about it. My head's whirling. I believe it's a dream.”
Indeed this George had rushed through so much in the past hours, was now suddenly come upon so much, that the excitement, as he attempted realisation, was of stunning effect. He sat white, head in hands.
“Jolly soon show you!” Bill cried. “Come to the office straight away. Bring the cat. I was to meet the chief and Vivian Howard there at twelve.”