“Yes, at once.” Mildred, distressed and solicitous, took her down by a back staircase. “But dear Emmeline, what is it? You’re ill. You’re trembling—oh, you’re crying.”
“No, I’m not ill. Everything is quite all right. Only I’m a little hysterical—for the moment.”
At the flat a cablegram was waiting for her.
“Done the trick. Coming home. Love. Tony.”
CHAPTER XVIII
HE had got it now—the fame, the glory, the unsubstantial but glittering payment for a life spent in solid and incredibly arduous toil.
Never again would his name be left out of lists; never again would his publicity agent feel compelled to write reminders or corrections to the morning papers. As to the great achievement itself, very little need be said here. Indeed, as Emmie is already engaged in preparing for publication the two large volumes which will be entitled The Sixth Cruise, any attempt to give a detailed account of Dyke’s final triumph would be at least premature, if not superfluous.
Suffice it then to say that with this last expedition there were no accidents. Not only the leader but his two companions won through to safety; and in regard to the minor journeys, the scientific researches, the geographical investigations, all went well. Everything scraped up from the bottom of the sea, the collection of minerals chipped off the land, the measurements, records, and diaries, were duly brought home to England. Honours from all countries, including his own, were showered upon the illustrious explorer. As has become customary on these occasions, it was immediately announced that the King had been graciously pleased to confer a knighthood upon Mr. Dyke.