Farquhar held his breath for a few seconds.
“Why fatal, Professor?” he asked, for it was at the bade of his head to suggest to Sir George the advisability of despatching an expedition when the time was ripe.
“Fatal to the scheme as well as to the newspaper,” was the elder man’s response. “Even you modern journalists cannot make money by exploiting sacred relics of such importance.”
“No, but we could investigate for the benefit of the Hebrew race. We sorely would not lose prestige by that?”
“Yes, you would. No Jew, or even Christian for that matter, would ever believe that a newspaper defrayed the cost of an expedition out of pure regard for the interests of the Hebrew faith.” He laughed. “The public know too well that a ‘boom’ means to a newspaper increased circulation, and, therefore, increased income. Before these days of the yellow journalism, the press was supposed to be above such ruses; but now the public receives the journalistic ‘boom’ with its tongue in its cheek.”
“You’re quite right, Professor, quite right!” remarked Frank, for the first time realising that to “work” the treasure of Israel as a “boom” for his group of newspapers and periodicals was impossible. “I’ve only regarded it from the business side, and not from the sentimental. I see now that any newspaper touching it would be treading dangerous ground, and might at once wound religious susceptibilities.”
“I’m glad you’ve seen it in that light!” replied the old scholar, stroking his grey hair. “As far as I can discern, the best mode of procedure—providing of course, that we can discover the key number to the numerical cipher—is for me to write an article in the Contemporary with a view to obtaining the financial assistance of the Jewish community. I know the Jew well enough to be confident, that all, from the Jew pedlar in the East End to the family of Rothschild itself, would unite in assisting to discover the sacred treasures of the Temple.” And for half an hour or so they chatted, until Frank was able to slip away with Gwen into the drawing-room where, without a single word, he clasped her in his arms passionately and kissed her upon the lips.
He held her closely pressed to his breast, as he stroked her soft hair tenderly, and looked into those wide-open, trustful eyes. Surely that frank expression of true and abiding love could not be feigned! There is, in a true woman’s eyes, a love-look that cannot lie! He saw it, and was at once satisfied.
In a low voice he begged forgiveness for misjudging her, repeating his great and unbounded affection. She heard his quick strained voice, and listened to his heartfelt words, and then, unable to restrain her joy at his return, her head fell upon his shoulders, and she burst into tears.
She was his, she whispered, still his—and his alone.