The warning bell had reached the seventh stroke!
Arising to his feet with a triumphant smile upon his lean, suave face, the English merchant advanced to the desk and laid thereon a packet. As he turned to resume his seat there was a noise at the door, and the lame youth marched in with calm dignity.
"Ah, I see I am just in time," he said, with a pleasant smile. "Mr. Udono, will you please accept our bid for the contracts?"
"Certainly, Grant, with the greatest pleasure," quickly replied the secretary. "Where have you been? I actually thought you would be——"
He was interrupted by a snarl of mingled stupefaction and rage. Mr. Black, who had been staring open mouthed at the lads, sprang forward, and shouted:
"It is too late! It is past the time. The hour of twelve——"
"Has not struck yet," quietly interrupted Grant. "Listen! ten, eleven, twelve! I was three seconds to the good."
If ever baffled fury sat enthroned on a man's countenance it did then upon that of the English merchant. He was speechless with anger and disappointment. Shaking his fist in Grant's face, he stammered and choked in a futile effort to berate him.
"Mr. Black, a word with you," suddenly said Nattie, stepping up.