He took a final drink, slipped on his coat, and with a merry bon soir and an injunction to make up his mind and wire him at the earliest moment, he shook his friend’s hand and went out.
Max sat alone for a long time, still smoking. In his ignorance he was reflecting that the business seemed a sound one. Adam had not asked him to put down money before full inquiry, and had, at the same time, offered to put up half. This latter fact, in itself, showed that his friend had confidence in the scheme.
And so, before he turned in that night, he had practically made up his mind to pay a flying visit to the Sultan’s capital. There could be no harm done, he argued. He had never been in Constantinople, and to go there with a resident like Adam was in itself an opportunity not to be missed.
Meanwhile the astute concession-hunter, as he drove to Addison Road in a cab, was calmly plotting a further step in the direction he was slowly but surely following. His daring and ingenuity knew no bounds. He was a man full of energy and resource, unabashed, undaunted, unscrupulous, and yet to all, even to his most intimate friend, a perfect sphinx.
The second step in his progress he took on the evening of the day after.
In the afternoon, about four, a shabbily-dressed man called upon him at his flat, and they remained together for ten minutes or so. At half-past eight, as Marion was about to enter a ’bus at Oxford Circus to take her up to Hampstead for a blow—a trip she frequently took in the evening when alone—she heard her name uttered, and turning, found Max’s polite French friend behind her, about to mount on the same conveyance.
To avoid him was impossible, therefore they ascended to the top together, he declaring that he was on his way to Hampstead.
“I’m going there too,” she told him, although he already knew it quite well. “Have you seen Mr Barclay to-day?”
“Not to-day. I have been busy in the City,” Adam explained. He glanced at her, and could not refrain from noting her neat appearance, dressed as she was in a black skirt, white cotton blouse, and a black hat which suited her beauty admirably. He knew that she was at Cunnington’s, but, of course, appeared in ignorance of the fact. He was most kind and courteous to her, and so well had he arranged the meeting that she believed it to be entirely an accident.
Presently, after they had chatted for some time, he sighed, saying—