“What’s the use of leaving now if your fleece is gone? He can’t hurt you. Did he shear you in days gone past?”
“It’s a long story. What strikes me, however, is the coincidence of old Beck turning up at this moment. There is, in fact, a coincidence within a coincidence. Read that cablegram.”
Steele shoved over to his friend the message he had received that day from New York. The Consul wrinkled his brows over the Italian-English of the despatch, and made out its purport to be as follows:
John Steele, Naples.
Have you block Northern Pacific? If so, send me particulars and full powers to deal. Act at once. Stock booming, but expect a crash shortly. Come over yourself if you can, immediately. The block will make you rich if realised without delay.
Manson.
“Who is Manson?” asked the Consul.
“Philip Manson was my chief on the Manateau Midland Railway before he went east to New York. I succeeded him on the Midland. He and I lost about all we possessed in the Rockervelt panic a few years ago. I was what you would call a ‘quitter’ and came to Europe. Manson was a ‘holdfast’ and so he is still in New York.”
“Then why not go right over and see him, instead of taking that trip to Calabria?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I do feel a yearning for the States, but I think I’ll wait until I hear how this deal turns out. Read my answer to his cablegram,” and the young man handed to his friend the document he had written before the other came in.