“Out with it,” ordered Mr. Morgan.
“I think I can repeat it word for word.”
“Do so, then.”
“‘Have a tip that U. Cal. cannot prove up on patents. News will be public before night. Order your subscription cancelled before afternoon session of Stock Exchange, or there will be a heavy loss.’”
“Thunder!”
Mr. Morgan jumped up fully a foot on the cushioned seat of the tonneau. His face went white as chalk. He seemed about to spring from the automobile. Then he jerked out his watch, fell back, and, trembling all over, gasped out to the chauffeur:
“Drive for your life to the telegraph office at Rockley Cove. Don’t lose a second!”
[CHAPTER VII—GRACE MORGAN]
Tom stepped aside quickly as the chauffeur set the power, and the machine made a sharp jump. As it flashed around a curve bound townwards Mr. Morgan leaned over the back of the tonneau.
“I won’t forget this, Barnes,” he bawled loudly.