Like all get-rich-quick schemes, it had its inevitable breaking point, and this Mr. Lamantia knew. "Clean up while it lasts, and get out," is the only possible motto for its promoter; but a certain fatal doubt has often existed about how long it may safely be expected to last. Mr. Lamantia thought that he had gauged the duration to a nicety. On this morning whose events we have been following, Mr. Lamantia drew out his balance from the bank, packed it neatly in a small leather bag, and called back at his office. Perhaps that was a foolish thing to do, but his new secretary was a very beautiful girl. It was Saturday, and the week-end would give him a long start on his getaway. He had a new passport in another name, his passage was booked from Southampton, his luggage was packed and gone, his moustache ready for mowing: only one more thing was needed.
"Well," he said bluntly, "have you made up your mind?"
"I should like to come, Mr. Lamantia."
"Julian," said Mr. Lamantia attractively, "will do. Haven't you got a first name — Miss Allfield?"
"Kathleen," said the girl, with a smile. "Usually Kate."
The name meant nothing to Mr. Lamantia, who did his best to hold aloof from ordinary criminal circles. He said he preferred Kathleen.
"When do you go?" she asked.
"This afternoon."
"But you told me —"
"I've had to change my plans. I had a cable from Buenos Aires at my hotel this morning — I must get there as soon as I possibly can."