Yet, was it a risk? he asked himself; with the properties that he could include in his new North Morocco Gold Mining Association—that was to be the title of the new company—there could be no doubt as to the result of the public issue. The British public dearly love a gamble, and a gold-mining gamble, with all its mysteries and uncertainties, more dearly than any.
He went to bed late, but was taking his chocolate and roll before a little café on the boulevard before nine. At half-past nine he was joined by the girl.
Cartwright had been undecided as to whether he should take his petit déjeuner outside or inside the café, and had decided, since the morning was bright and warm, to breakfast under the striped awning in full view of the street. Such great events hang upon slight issues.
Scarcely had the girl seated herself opposite to him, when a pedestrian, passing on the other side of the boulevard, halted and stared. Mr. Ferreira had sharp eyes and a wit not altogether dulled by his monotonous occupation.
Cartwright produced a bulky package from his pocket and laid it on the table before the girl.
“Put that in your bag and be careful with it,” he said; “there are three hundred thousand francs in notes. When the property is transferred to you, you must bring the transfer along to me.”
“What about your promise?” she asked suspiciously.
“That I will keep,” he said. “Don’t forget that you have the best guarantee in the possession of the transfer. Legally, it is your property until it is made over to me.”
She sat looking at the package absently, and presently she said:
“You’ve got to get me out of Paris at once. Otherwise I am due to leave by the Sud Express—with Brigot.”