“With M’Kinlay for his pilot, he’ll make the harbour, I have no doubt whatever,” said Sir Within, smiling graciously.
“I shall certainly do my best, Sir,” said the other, bowing. “Not alone because it is my duty, but that Sir Gervais has been good enough to regard me, for many years back, in the light of his friend as well as his lawyer.”
“Of that I am well aware,” said Sir Within, lifting his glass and appearing to be quietly pledging Mr. M’Kinlay to himself as a toast.
“Has the scoundrel who ran away with his securities been caught?” asked Grenfell, impatiently.
“No, Sir; he is beyond being caught—he is dead.” After a pause, which Sir Within and Grenfell saw all the importance of not breaking but leaving to M’Kinlay the task of continuing his narrative, that gentleman went on: “It is quite a romance—positively a romance in real life. I’m afraid,” said he, looking at his watch, “I shall not have time to tell you the story in all its details. I must start by the ten-twenty train for Lyons.”
“We are only a few minutes after eight now,” said Grenfell. “Let us hear the story.”
“Even in outline,” chimed in Sir Within, blandly. “Pray help yourself to the wine—it is beside you.”
“I can give you but a sketch—a mere sketch, Sir. It would seem, Sir, that ever since the French conquest of Algeria, a French company has been engaged in the supply of munitions of war to the Arabs, and to this end had established agents at Tripoli, Tunis, and Morocco, who were thus enabled to transport these supplies into the interior of Africa. The director of this company was La Harpe, the Parisian banker, with whom Sir Gervais became acquainted through Mr. Gennet, himself the owner of many shares in the undertaking.”
Grenfell sighed drearily at the long-windedness which he saw awaited them; but Sir Within looked intensely interested, and M’Kinlay went on, and, with a prolixity that I have no desire to imitate, entered upon the nature of this company, its operations, and its gains. With a painstaking minuteness he described the false trade-marks used to prevent discovery, and how the weapons, which were forged in France, bore the stamp of Sheffield or Birmingham.
“Giving ‘La perfide Albion’ all the credit of the treachery,” said Sir Within, smiling.