"Oh, I'll go!" responded the engineer with sudden alacrity. "Anything to hoblige."
He hobbled painfully out of bed. The nurse had by this time returned, and was demanding in forcible language that his patient should instantly get back. Seeing that his expostulations had no effect, he assisted Wilkins very ungraciously to get into his clothes. With the aid of a stout cane the latter tottered to the elevator and was finally ensconced safely in the cab. All this had occupied nearly an hour; twenty minutes more brought them to the New York Life Building.
As McAllister and Herbert assisted their supposed victim into the building, the clubman caught a glimpse of the lean Tomlinson and athletically built Conville standing together behind the pillars of the portico. The elevator whisked them up to the fifth floor so rapidly that the sick man swore loudly that he should never live to come down again. As they turned into the corridor toward the entrance of the office, McAllister saw his confederates emerge from the rear elevator. Things were going well enough, so far. Now for the coup d'état!
The boy admitted them at once into the inner sanctum. As before, President Van Vorst sat there calmly smoking a cigar. At his right, in a corner by the window, stood a heavy iron safe.
"Well," said McAllister briskly, "I've brought the stock, and I've brought its former owner with it. Do you recognize him?"
"Well, well!" returned the President, stepping forward with great cordiality and clasping Wilkins's hand in his. "If it isn't my old engineer, Murphy! How are you, Murphy, old socks? It's nearly a year, isn't it, since you were at Stafford?"
"Yes," replied Wilkins tremulously, "an' I'm a very sick man. I've got the skyathicer somethin' hawful."
McAllister produced the stock from his coat-pocket.
"Do you identify this certificate?" inquired the clubman.
"Of course! Now think of that! I've been lookin' for that thousand shares ever since Murphy left the mine," said the Colonel with a show of irritation.