The millionaire stroked his whiskers, for he was nonplussed. Yet he was shrewd, and gifted with a wonderful foresight. If Macbean really intended to go to Rome, then some other means must be found by which to ingratiate himself with the man he had so long ill-treated and despised. There might come a day when Macbean would arise against him, and for that day he must certainly be prepared.
He flung himself into his big morocco arm-chair and motioned George to the seat at the writing-table, having first ascertained that the door was closed. Then, with a few preliminary words of regret that the young man preferred service abroad, he said in a low, earnest voice—confidential for the first time in his life—
“If you go to Rome it is for the purpose of improving your position—of making money. Now, I am desirous of obtaining certain information, for which I am prepared to pay very handsomely, and at the Ministry of War you can, if you go cautiously to work, obtain it.”
“You mean some military secret?” remarked Macbean, looking quickly at his master. “I certainly shall never betray my employers.”
“No, no, not at all,” protested the arrogant man before him, with a dry laugh. “It is a secret which I desire to learn—one for which I will willingly pay you ten thousand pounds in cash, if you can give me proof of the truth—but it is not a military one. You need have no fear that I am asking you to act the traitor to your employers.” The two men regarded each other fixedly. Each was suspicious of double-dealing. The millionaire was searching to discover whether the sum named was sufficiently tempting to induce his secretary to act as his spy, while the latter, scanning the large eyes of the other, endeavoured to read the motive of the mysterious offer.
“You can earn ten thousand pounds easily if you are only wary and act with careful discretion,” went on the millionaire, seeing that Macbean had become interested. “It only requires a little tact, a few judicious inquiries, and the examination of a few official documents. To the latter you will no doubt have access, and if so it will be easy enough.”
“And what is it?” asked George Macbean after a brief pause, shifting in his chair as he spoke. “What is it you desire to know?”
“The truth regarding the exact circumstances of the death of poor Sazarac.”
The other held his breath.
“I desire to avenge his death,” went on the millionaire quietly, looking straight into the face of the astonished man, “and I intend to do so. He was my friend, you know. Discover the truth, and I will willingly pay you the sum I have named—ten thousand pounds.” George Macbean sat before his employer utterly bewildered, stupefied.