"Omofaga—viâ London."
The Baron caught him by the arm, and whispered in his ear,
"There's not so much in it, first and last."
"Oh, isn't there? Then why don't you take the offer?"
"Is it your money?"
"It's good money. Come, Baron, you've always liked the safe side," and Willie smiled down upon his host.
The Baron positively started. This young man stood over him and told him calmly, face-to-face, the secret of his life. It was true. How he had envied men of real nerve, of faith, of daring! But he had always liked the safe side. Hence he was very rich—and a rather weary old man.
Two days later, Willie Ruston took a cab from Lord Semingham's, and drove to Curzon Street. He arrived at twelve o'clock in the morning. Harry Dennison had gone to a Committee at the House. The butler had just told him so, when a voice cried from within,
"Is it you, Mr. Ruston?"
Mrs. Dennison was standing in the hall. He went in, and followed her into the library.