“Then let’s talk of something else. For instance, I have word that your friend the postman has a chance of recovering, and I have to tell you about our friend Symington.”
“I’ve been wondering,” said Colin, “whether he accepted your invitation to call at the office.”
“He did—the morning after you left for Amsterdam. Incidentally, I got rather a good snap-shot of him. He seemed a trifle nervous until he received the new certificates, and then he coolly informed the secretary that he had purchased the old ones six years ago—an unmitigated lie, as we know. It remains to be seen, of course, whether he is acting for himself or for Corrie, and if the former, how many of the 5,000 shares have come into his possession.”
“You can’t prevent him selling the shares?”
“I could do that by circularizing all the exchanges and brokers, but sooner or later that would mean publicity. Besides, I want to give Mr. Symington rope just as I’ve given it to Mr. Corrie.”
“It may prove awfully expensive rope, Mr. Risk,” ventured Colin.
“I’m ready to pay for my amusement,” the other pleasantly returned, “and you don’t want me to tell you again that I will replace every share it may cost Miss Carstairs.”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Colin. “Only—well, you have been so good to me that I’d hate to see you lose—”
“Money! Yes, but think of the game, Hayward! And we’re going to win that. Why, it’s going to be the most tremendously interesting business I ever tackled. You don’t mind danger, do you?”
Colin laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve had no experience, but I’m at your service, Mr. Risk. I suppose,” he went on, “Symington has already converted some of the 500 shares into cash.”