It was an astonishing way to deal with a huge commercial affair covering two continents; but Terrard knew his man too well by this time to spin out the interview. He was content to take his leave.
A few days later there was a large public indignation meeting against the B.A.R. Bill in Leeds. That same week half a dozen in the north and Midlands, and one, not very successful, in London.
Two papers timidly admitted letters. Gowle’s wretched fanatical sheet (what a Godsend!) began a regular attack.
A few days later again a careless conversation between Terrard and young Cassleton at the Benezra’s ball had drifted, somehow, on to B.A.R.’s. Charlie had said casually that Mr. Petre had been talking about the future in front of Rotors over here, in England.
Cassleton saw Henry Trefusis on the morrow, and put up danger signals. Henry Trefusis refused to budge. Cassleton had grown eloquent. Trefusis had said it was talk—Terrard’s talk, no proof.
Cassleton was the more convinced of danger.
Next day he met Terrard hurrying west: going to see Petre, he said. He’d look into Bolter’s at five. Terrard was telling the truth. He was indeed on his way to see Mr. Petre—and he saw him, to some purpose.
A little after five he was in Bolter’s lounging by the side of the lounging Cassleton. They had talked for half an hour and more. Terrard had summoned the young genius, the Hermes of the Trefusis Jove, and had plainly put the thing before him. Mr. Petre, his Mr. Petre, wasn’t over here for his health: He—the Rotor man. However, he was willing to come to terms. Terrard could assure Cassleton of that. Couldn’t the principals meet?
But Cassleton had bluffed. The surrender was not going to be as easy as Terrard had hoped. He told Terrard plainly that Mr. Petre was not in any one’s pocket, and that talking was only talking. He sneered that there wasn’t a word in Mr. Petre’s writing; not even a penciled scrawl; there wasn’t even a telephone message; there wasn’t——
“Oh, if that’s all,” said Charlie Terrard with sudden vigor, “that’s easily settled.” He sent for a messenger, sat down, and wrote at top speed: