“I zank you, sir. Ze pleasure vas mutual; ze profit shall be Schlagintwert’s.”
“But how was it you were put in the dungeons?” asked Tom.
“Vy, I tell you. Vun day come ze sheikh viz his men. Zink I, now has arrive ze Kaiser’s telegram. But no; zey carry us down to ze deps, and zere are ve shut opp vorse zan before!”
“That was when they got the message from Salathiel ben Ezra, no doubt,” said Tom,“—the Jew you found in the cave, Mr. Schwab.”
“Ven I vas so hungry!”
“I wonder what has become of him?” said Oliphant. “It’s to him I owe the keenest sport I’ve ever had.”
“The less said about that the better, M’C—I beg your pardon—Mr. Oliphant. The man was a villain. I said so, Tom. Timothy will have a scar for the rest of his days. And but for the Jew we shouldn’t have lost our airship. Not that that matters. We’ve proved it, you know; we’ll build a larger one now.”
“And Schlagintwerts shall buy it cost price!”
“No, sir, Schlagintwerts shall not buy it,” said Mr. Greatorex, frowning severely on the German. “We will offer it to the Government. I shall invite Colonel Capper to examine it, and Lord Langside, I trust, will show himself sufficiently sensible of his obligation to us to make no difficulties about the price.”
“Vell, Schlagintwert shall have colossal order for Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six—at least until ze var come.”