"But——" cried Carl indignantly, his fat cheeks swelling.
"There are no buts in the matter. I am paid, or I blab. I have a long memory, and there are other things I can mention. No, friend Carl, we swim or sink together, as I have said. You leave England. Good! I look after your house, your servants, and your interests during your absence. Supposing you fail—supposing this—er—accident doesn't happen, then you fall back on your dear friend. I seek for an inspiration. I attempt another accident. In either case, if you are successful, or if the honour falls to me, our bargain holds, I am paid what was promised."
It was a sordid business; but no doubt there are other rascals of the same kidney haggling over even less unsavoury schemes in the great city of London. But this was evident, Carl was in a corner, hoist as it were by the very rascal he had hoped to use merely as a tool, and then to throw away when no longer useful. It was a bitter blow, but to be endured, and he must not allow it to prevent his following the line of action he had suddenly decided on. He gulped down the contents of his tumbler, scowled at his companion, and then stretched out for the telephone receiver. A moment later he was dictating a telegram to be dispatched by wireless to the great airship.
"Mr. Carl Reitberg presents his warmest congratulations to Mr. Andrew Provost and his clever nephew, and asks to be allowed to accompany the party aboard the airship during some part of their world trip. Wire place at which ship could call."
Down in the depths of the airship, in the Marconi operator's cabin, the operator was busily employed some few minutes later, while the aerials above flashed in the sun and clicked in their own extraordinary fashion. Then a paper was thrust into Andrew's hand as he paced the deck arm in arm with the Commander.
"Umph!" he said, handing it to the naval officer. "Rather spoil the fun of the party. I ain't too fond of Mr. Carl Reitberg."
"But it's sporting of him, eh?" reflected the officer, now rapidly recovering.
"Sporting? Er—yes—that's what he aims at particularly. Sad if he were to spoil also the ship's chances."
"But surely that's impossible—one man spoil the chances of the ship's success!"
"Well, perhaps I'm unduly suspicious. Carton, wire back that we shall be pleased to receive him, and that Joe Gresson will call for him in London. Then call up Joe. He's well within range of the ship's wireless, and repeat the message."