This was considerate and somewhat appropriate, as Tony Cornish had yawned more than once.
“Now as to the past,” continued Lord Ferriby. “The works have been going for more than three months, and the result has been uniformly satisfactory——Eh?”
“Many deaths?” inquired White, stolidly repeating his question.
“Deaths? Ah—among the workers? Yes, to be sure. Perhaps Mr. von Holzen can tell you better than I.”
And his lordship bowed in what he took to be the foreign manner across the table.
“Yes,” replied Von Holzen, quietly, “there have, of course, been deaths, but not so many as I anticipated. The majority of the men had, as Mr. Cornish will tell you, death written on their faces when they arrived at The Hague.”
“They certainly looked seedy,” admitted Tony.
“We will, I think, turn rather to the—eh—er—living,” said Lord Ferriby, turning over the papers in front of him with a slightly reproachful countenance. He evidently thought it rather bad form of White to pour cold water over his new whitewash. For Lord Ferriby's was that charity which hopeth all things, and closeth her eye to practical facts, if these be discouraging. “I have here the result of the three months' work.”
He looked at the papers with so condescending an air that it was quite evident that, had he been a business man and not a lord, he would have understood them at a glance. There was a short silence while he turned over the closely written sheets with an air of approving interest.
“Yes,” he said, as if during those moments he had run his eye up all the column of figures and found them correct, “the result, as I say, gentlemen, has been most satisfactory. We have manufactured a malgamite which has been well received by the paper-makers. We have, furthermore, been able to supply at the current rate without any serious loss. We are increasing our plant, and the day is not so far distant when we may, at all events, hope to be self-supporting.”