Nasmyth laid a hand on his shoulder in a very expressive way.
“I felt all along that you’d come to look at it like that!”
“But there’s Batley; he has some suspicions.”
“I can silence him,” promised Nasmyth. “The man has his good points, after all.”
“That’s so,” Lisle agreed. “Still, I’ll come straight across to England and tackle him if you fail. If it’s a question of money, you can count me in—I’ve been prospering lately.” He rose and knocked out his pipe. “That’s the last word on the matter.”
They went back to camp, and starting soon after sunrise the next morning they reached a settlement on the railroad after a comparatively easy journey; and that evening Lisle stood with a heavy heart beside the track while the big cars moved away, his eyes fixed on a woman’s figure that leaned out from a vestibule platform, waving a hand to him.
After that he went back to his work, with Crestwick; and nearly twelve months had passed when he sent a cable to England and started for that country a day after receiving the answer. Crestwick insisted on going with him.
“You’ll no doubt want my support again,” he grinned. “There’s an office I mean to rob Nasmyth of, if I can.”
It was evening when they drove into sight of Millicent’s house. Lisle’s heart throbbed painfully fast as he got down, but he was not kept waiting. Millicent was standing in her drawing-room, and as he came in she held out her hand to him.
“You answered my message,” he said, seizing it. “You must have guessed what I meant when I asked if I might come across.”