Kleinwort laughed.
"When he show the cloven foot," he remarked in English, "I know who get the worst of the kicking."
"And so do I," thought Werner. "Would to Heaven I were clear of the whole connection."
Which was all the more ungrateful of Mr. Werner, since he had once regarded the General Chemical Company in the light of a stepping-stone to fortune.
But that was in the days when he had made a little mistake about Forde, and considered him a clever man. Now there can he no greater mistake for an adventurer to fall into than this, and Mr. Werner cursed his fate accordingly.
All this time Mortomley was lying in a state of blessed unconsciousness.
He was oblivious of Mr. Forde's existence. If forgetfulness be Heaven, as on earth I think it sometimes is, Mortomley had entered Paradise. To-day and to-morrow business and money were all forgotten words. He lay like one already dead, and as his wife looked at him, she vowed the influence of no human being should ever reduce him to the same state again.
For though no one save God and himself might ever know the red-hot ploughshares over which Mr. Forde had made him pass, Dolly possessed sufficient intelligence to understand he must have suffered horribly. Had not she suffered? Was not everything about the place suffering? The game had gone on too long, she felt. It should end now; it should before life or reason ended also.
Meanwhile Mr. Forde would certainly have become dangerous had business not required his absence from London.
Before he left he called in Thames Street to ascertain the cause of Mr. Mortomley's extraordinary defection.