The inventor impulsively held out his hand, and his relief was obvious and intense. It was almost as if he had feared the result of his revelation.
"Your wishes are entirely mine," he said, as Ruxton wrung his hand. "It was this necessity for secrecy which has troubled me. I did not think you would accept it. And—I feared the shattering of all my hopes." He turned to Sir Andrew, who stood watching the scene wonderingly.
"And you, sir?" he asked, with extended hand. "Have I your word?"
"Absolutely, sir."
The bluff tone, and the grip of the Yorkshire hand, had its prompt effect.
"I need no more."
The man proceeded to close up his model.
"And for communicating with you?" demanded Ruxton.
Mr. Smith looked up.
"The same address. Veevee, London. It will always find me."