The Great Secret

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

The little Frenchman nodded.

"I have," he admitted. "It is, perhaps, a forlorn hope, but it is our only chance. You have appealed to the government—you have failed! Appeal, then, to their masters."

"The people!" Guest exclaimed. "But how? There is no time!"

"There is only one way," Monsieur Bardow declared, "but it is a royal way. The things which we four in this cab know could be driven home to every living Englishman in little more than twelve hours' time, if we can only find—!"

"The Press!" I cried.

"If we can only find," Monsieur Bardow continued, with a little nod, "an editor man enough to throw the great dice!"

"Staunton!" Guest exclaimed.

"We are on our way there," Monsieur Bardow declared. "He is our one hope!"

I glanced towards Guest. There was a new fire in his eyes. I saw that the idea appealed to him. Nervously he flung down the window and let in the fresh air.

"A newspaper agitation," he muttered, "takes time, and if that destroyer does not leave by four o'clock to-morrow afternoon—"