Donald Megbie knew that here was a chance of his literary lifetime. Lord Malvin would never have spoken in this way without due consideration and absolute conviction. Something very big indeed was in the air. But what was it? The journalist had not an idea as yet.
He looked eagerly at the aquiline, ascetic face of the inventor, marked the slight smile of triumph that lingered round the lips, and noted how the eyes shone, brilliantly, steadily, as if they were lighted up from behind. Megbie had seen many men in many countries.
And as he looked keenly at Sir William Gouldesbrough two thoughts came into his mind. One was something like this—"You are certainly one of the most intellectual and remarkable men now living. You are unique, and you stand upon a pedestal of fame that only one man in several generations ever reaches. All the same, I shouldn't like to be in your power or to stand in your way!" And moreover the question came to the quick analytic brain of the writer whether the brilliance of those lamp-like eyes was wholly natural, was wholly sane.
These twin thoughts were born and over in a flash, and even as he thought of them Megbie began to speak.
"Now that Lord Malvin has told us so much, Sir William," he said, "won't you tell us some more? I suppose you know that all the world is waiting for a pronouncement?"
"The world will know very soon, Mr. Megbie," Gouldesbrough answered pleasantly. "In about a fortnight's time I am sending out some invitations to some of our leading people to witness the result of my experiments in my laboratories. I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you there also. But if you wish it, I will certainly give you a slight idea of the work. Since the public seem interested in what I am doing, and something seems to have leaked out, I am quite willing that they should know more. And of course there is no one to whom I would rather say anything than yourself."
Megbie bowed. He was tremendously excited. Brother writers who did not make a tenth of his income and had not a quarter of his eminence were wont to say that his ears twitched when in the presence of a great celebrity. This no doubt was calumny, but the journalist stood in an attitude of strained attention—as well a man might stand when the secret of the hour was about to be revealed to him in preference to all other men.
Gouldesbrough bowed to Lord Malvin.
"I'm going to have half-an-hour's conversation with Mr. Megbie," he said. "Meanwhile, my lord, I wonder if you would give Sir Harold Oliver a slight technical outline of my processes? And of course, as I understand this is to be in some sense a night on which your friends are to be given some general information, I shall place myself entirely in your hands as to any revelations you may think proper to make."
He moved off with the journalist, leaving the two other men already fallen into deep talk.