“When are you going up to town?” he asked.
“This afternoon. I shall see my man in the morning, and I feel sure that if I put the problem before him he’ll be able, before long, to give us some tangible solution,” was Frank’s reply. “When I act, I act promptly, you know.”
The Doctor was undecided. He knew quite well that young Farquhar was acquainted with all sorts of writers and scholars, and that possibly among them were men who were experts in Hebrew, and in the history of the House of Israel.
He reflected. If the young man were content with fifteen per cent, what had he further to fear?
Therefore, after some further persuasion on Frank’s part, he promised to write out an agreement upon a fifteen per cent, basis, and submit the fragments to the young man’s friend.
They returned to the village, and the Doctor promised to call upon him at noon with an agreement written out.
This he did, and in the library at the Manor Frank appended his signature, receiving in return the precious fragments carefully preserved between the two pieces of cardboard.
When the deformed man had left, Frank Farquhar lit a cigarette, and stretching his legs as he sat in the armchair, laughed aloud in triumph.
“Now if I tie down old Griffin the secret will be mine,” he remarked aloud. “I’ve already ‘wired’ to Gwen, so she’ll expect me at eight, and no doubt tell her father.”
At five o’clock Sir George’s red “Mercedes” came round to the front of the house to take Frank into Peterborough, and half an hour later he was in the “up-Scotsman” speeding towards King’s Cross, bearing with him the secret which he felt confident was to set the whole world by the ears.