"Yes. Confound it, 'aven't I bin cablin' there every two days for a fortnight or more? B'lieve me or not, Dickey, it cut me to the 'eart to keep you in the dark about Iris. But I begun it, like an ijjit, an' kep' on with it."
"To sweeten me on account of the new ships, I s'pose?"
"Yes, that's it. No more lyin' for me. I'm sick of it."
"For the same reason you wanted that letter published?"
"Well—yes. There! You see I'm talkin' straight."
"So am I. If—if Iris is alive, the partnership goes on. If—she's dead, it doesn't."
"D'ye mean it?"
"I always mean wot I say."
The click of an indicator on the desk showed that Verity's private telephone had been switched on from the general office. By sheer force of routine, David picked up a receiver and placed it to his ear. The sub-editor of the newspaper whose representative had not been gone five minutes asked if he was speaking to Mr. Verity.
"Yes," said David, "wot's up now?" and he motioned to Bulmer to use a second receiver.