“That agreement lapsed two months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then write out an option for me, good for a week. I’ll pay you five hundred dollars down, to be forfeited if I fail to do what I promise.”
“I’ll give you the document with pleasure, but it is unnecessary to make a deposit.”
“This is business, you know, Mr. Sterling. You are pretending you are as bad a business man as I am. I don’t know much about the law of America, but I think you will find that unless a deposit is made, your instrument would be invalid in a court of law. There must be value received, I believe, when a bargain is made.”
“All right,” said Sterling, “but I’ll give you back your money if you regret the deal.”
He went to a desk in the corner, and wrote out the agreement, in which he acknowledged the receipt of five hundred dollars. Stranleigh selected from his wallet five bills for a hundred dollars each, and handed them over, then bidding farewell to the engineer, walked to his hotel, followed at a discreet distance by Mr. Wentworth Parkes.
Having located his quarry, Parkes retraced his steps to Woodbridge Street, deep in thought. His first resolution was to try bluster, but he abandoned that idea for two reasons, each conclusive in its way. His slight acquaintance with the engineer had convinced him that while much could be done with Sterling by persuasion, he would not yield to force, and secondly, the motor builder had no money. Whatever gold he was to acquire in his deal must come from Lord Stranleigh. It was, therefore, a mild and innocent lamb of a man who entered the machine shop of Woodbridge Street.
“Hello!” cried Sterling, who seemed taken aback by the encounter. “What have you done with my automobile, and why did you not answer my letters?”