"I hope," said the latter, "that the trip has been a success for you?"
The amateur pilot gave an involuntary start. The question pitched his mind forward to the works, and he realized that for five days he had forgotten all about them.
"It has been a very great pleasure to me," went on the prelate quietly. "I'm apt to have too much broadcloth and not enough gray tweed in my life. Most of us are in the same case, and one's love of one's work does not suffer by an interest in other things."
"My dear sir, I've benefited enormously. I'm a new man and ready for anything—even the worst." How little did he dream that at that very moment Lachesis was spinning her invisible web.
"Ah! that's what we must always be ready for—or the best, which is sometimes the same thing. Keep her to port a little."
The yacht rounded a long point and came in sight of the works, while Clark experienced a throb of thankfulness that his host had attempted no missionary work on him. He was as good as his word. There had been no proselytizing.
As the vessel reached the dock, they said good-by, each ready to do his job over again, and Clark, with his hand enveloped in the warm clasp, realized much of the secret of the prelate's life, which was no secret at all but just the benignity of a great and tender soul. He stepped over the yacht's side and glanced at his secretary who advanced to meet him with a telegram in his hand, noting that the young man's face was pale and his eyes unusually brilliant.
"This came an hour ago, sir."
With an impatient gesture he opened the folded sheet and read, his heart slowly contracting:
Regret unable to accept first cargo of rails being five thousand tons. These not up to your guarantee and our specifications. Full information this mail with the result of physical and chemical tests.