Man Overboard!, page 3
Ferris moved uneasily. His self-satisfaction grew less in evidence. This was clearly not so congenial a part of the interview.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ he said with a sharp glance at M‘Morris. ‘Suppose we represent the total work that’s wanted to make this affair a gold mine by a hundred per cent, we’ve already done ninety or ninety-five. What I mean is that so much has been done, that comparatively little more should finish it up. M‘Morris and I have worked at it on and off for nearly six months. If we could only get at it for a bit longer, particularly if we had Miss Grey’s help, I believe a short time would do the trick.’
‘Then why not do it?’
Ferris laughed. ‘Food,’ he said shortly. ‘Food and lodging and a spot of clothes. I mean we can’t carry on two jobs any longer—it’s too much for us. And we can’t afford to give up the one we’re paid for. You can be pretty sure, Penrose, that if we could have worked the thing alone, we should not have invited anyone into it with us, not even you and Miss Grey. But we can’t go on without help.’
Jack looked over doubtfully. ‘I dare say Pam would agree to help,’ he said; ‘and I certainly would if I was any use. But I mean help with our hands. Neither of us can put up any cash. At least I can’t.’
‘I would help,’ Pam declared. ‘I’d love it. But, as Jack says, it could only be with my hands. I couldn’t put up any cash. I haven’t got any to put.’
Ferris made a gesture of understanding. ‘You’re very good, Miss Grey,’ he said with some warmth. ‘And you, too, Penrose. You’re already giving us as much as we could expect: encouragement and an offer of technical assistance. But there was something else we had in mind; and, to tell you the honest truth, I’m not particularly wanting to mention it.’
Jack lit another cigarette. ‘Get along,’ he invited. ‘We’re here to hear the whole story, aren’t we?’
Once again Ferris changed his position. Then he looked at M‘Morris with a crooked grin. ‘Your turn, old man,’ he declared. ‘I’ve been talking too much.’
‘Just do your own dirty work,’ M‘Morris returned indignantly. ‘You’ll want the lion’s share in the square-up. Just go ahead and earn it.’
The others laughed and Ferris, with some show of embarrassment, returned to the subject.
‘We were thinking, M‘Morris and I, that if we could find some wealthy man who was interested in inventions and so on, he might care to come in on this. There would be a certain risk, of course. He might lose every penny he put in. But, on the other hand, he might make a hundred per cent, perhaps a thousand per cent. And he wouldn’t lose much if we did fail. Not enough to make any difference to him. Much less than many a man would put on a horse at one race. Far from doing us a favour, we should be giving him a chance that nine men out of ten would jump at.’
Jack grinned. ‘But could he be made to see that?’
‘I think so. After all, M‘Morris and I are not altogether fools in the way of chemistry, and we’d be showing our belief in the thing by giving up our jobs—the only thing we have to live by. I think a reasonable man could be convinced easily enough.’
Jack shook his head. ‘He’d be darned suspicious that you wanted some of his money for nothing, I’m afraid. Anyway, where would we find such a man?’
‘That’s the point—you’ve got to it now.’ Ferris glanced quickly up, and his eyes almost crackled. ‘We think we’ve found him.’
‘You’ve found him? Who is he?’ from Jack.
‘Do we know him, Mr Ferris?’ from Pam.
Ferris bent forward and spoke much more seriously. ‘Yes, you know him, both of you. You know him very well, Miss Grey. You mustn’t mind what I’m going to say. It’s Mr Whiteside.’
‘Oh,’ said Pam, and relapsed into silence.
Instantly she felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her. She had at first and unwillingly suspected an ulterior motive—and here it was. It was not her chemical knowledge and help these two wanted, still less was it Jack’s legal knowledge. It was George Whiteside’s money. She saw now the true inwardness of the whole manœuvre. Jack was approached only because they wanted to get hold of her, and she was wanted simply that she might act as a channel to George Whiteside, so that they might get money out of him. Interested as she had been, she had never wholly trusted either Ferris or M‘Morris. Now she saw that she had been justified.
William Grey, Pam’s father, and George Whiteside were first cousins. Old Mr Whiteside had occupied a high position in one of the Belfast shipyards, though he had retired some years earlier. He was now far advanced in the seventies, though he was still hale and hearty. He was a rich man and certainly could do what Ferris suggested without feeling it. He and Pam were close allies. Indeed Pam was treated as one of the family.
The Whitesides, father and two daughters, lived at Carnalea, near Bangor, on the Co. Down shore of Belfast Lough, and Pam spent a good deal of time with them. Mrs Whiteside had been dead for some years, and the girls ran the house for their father.
For a moment annoyance and a slight disgust filled Pam’s mind, then there came a reaction. She wondered whether she was not misjudging Ferris. After all, Cousin George was just the man to be interested in a thing of the kind. He had himself taken out many patents, and he liked nothing better than to be in the forefront of discovery and invention. And the amount of money Ferris wanted would be the merest bagatelle to him; he simply would not notice it. Even if he lost it all, Pam believed he would willingly pay it for the interest which the scheme might give him. And his life since his retirement was dull enough. It might indeed be worth putting the thing up to him. Besides, he was very far indeed from being a fool, and he knew something about chemistry. If these two hadn’t a really genuine proposition, he would pretty soon find it out.
Pam was also impressed by Ferris’s own argument that he and M‘Morris believed enough in their idea to give up their own job for it. In these times of unemployment that was, after all, a fairly severe test. No, perhaps she had been wrong in jumping too quickly to a conclusion.
‘And you want me to ask him?’ she said at length.
‘We wondered would you?’ Ferris answered. ‘You may think, Miss Grey, that our taking you and Penrose into our confidence was just a trick to get an approach to Mr Whiteside. Well, maybe it was. But you can judge of the proposition we want to put up. If you think it isn’t a suitable one, then don’t go further with it. We want to leave the decision entirely to yourself.’
This was straightforward and direct enough. She had judged too quickly. There was a lot to be said for the case Ferris had made out. But he was speaking again.
‘Perhaps I should tell you what was in our minds about dividing up any moneys we may get out of it. I thought—M‘Morris agrees with me—that if you and Penrose and Mr Whiteside come in we ought to divide our profits into seven parts. Two parts each to M‘Morris and myself, and one part to you other three. That would be subject to Mr Whiteside being first paid back what he advanced. We think it’s fair to ask double shares for ourselves, as the idea is ours, and because of all the work we’ve already put in. But,’ he smiled crookedly, ‘we would be open to reconsidering this if it be thought desirable.’
‘It could only be reconsidered to give you and Mr M‘Morris a larger share,’ Pam returned. ‘No, I think that’s a very handsome suggestion. What do you say, Jack?’
‘Quite all right. And I think they’re right about Mr Whiteside, too. He’d love it. You go down tomorrow and ask him, Pam. Or I’ll drive you down now.’
Keen delight shone in Ferris’s eyes at this sturdy support for his proposal. Obviously nothing could have pleased either him or M‘Morris better. ‘That would be splendid if Miss Grey would agree,’ he said tentatively. ‘If Mr Whiteside could be sounded, we would be available to put up our case at any time that he might arrange.’
‘If he goes into it at all, he’ll want to go into it at once. I’d suggest your coming, too, but it might look as if we were trying to rush him. Better stay near a telephone, so that we can get you if you’re wanted. Do you agree, Pam?’
Pam thought the arrangement was admirable, and they proceeded forthwith to put it into practice. She and Jack left at once for Carnalea, while the others remained in the hotel, so as to be in reach of the telephone. Whatever was arranged with Mr Whiteside, Jack was to let them know without delay.
The Penrose car bore two excited people from the station out into Whitla Street.
3
As Pamela Grey Saw It
The short February day was already drawing to a close as Jack and Pam drove out along the Bangor road. It was fine with a clear sky, but a bite in the air suggested frost. There was but little traffic, and Jack drove quickly. They soon passed through the rather drab streets on the east side of the Lagan and out into the comparative country of Sydenham. Then came Holywood and the rich, well-timbered estates leading up to Craigavad. An occasional glimpse of the Lough, the tiny village of Crawfordsburn, and finally Carnalea and the turn to the sea.
They passed the railway at Carnalea Station and went on down the road to the shore. The Whitesides lived in a red brick house of many gables standing in its own ground, one boundary being the beach itself. The space between the house and the beach had been levelled and turfed, making a lawn with a couple of tennis courts in the centre. Low evergreen shrubs where the ground sloped down to the shingle made the place private, but left the view open to the sea. In summer the outlook over the Lough was charming, with the ever changing colours of the water and the undulating line of the Antrim coast stretching from the dark square tower of Carrickfergus Castle to the bluff cliffs of Black Head and the Gobbins. On specially clear days the faintest trace of the far off Mull of Kintyre showed to the right of the Gobbins, an ethereal blue band above the hard black line of the sea. But in winter the view had to be paid for, when wild nor’-westers snorted in over a Lough of lead flecked with white, and masses of spindrift were carried across the grass and up to the windows of the house itself. Pam loved the sea in all its moods, whether it roared in its fury or, as it was now, dark and silent, though with a faint reflection from the still luminous western sky.
As they approached the door it opened, and a young woman appeared. She waved her arm.
‘Hallo!’ she cried. ‘Good business! We’re all alone, and were hoping someone would turn up. Tea’s just coming in, and after it we might try the new ping-pong table.’
This was Dorothy Whiteside, commonly called Dot. Between her and her sister Daphne there was the same contrast as between Ferris and M‘Morris. Dot was short, dark, energetic, and inclined to be stout; Daphne was tall, fair, thin and languid. As they invariably went about together, it was perhaps inevitable that the ‘p’ of Daphne’s name should be turned into an ‘s’, and that she should be called Dash. Dot and Dash made a formidable combination socially, and were in constant request by hostesses. Wherever games or dancing were to be found, there usually were the sisters.
‘We’d love some tea,’ Pam answered, ‘but I’m afraid we can’t stop to play. We really just dropped in for a minute to ask Cousin George a question. Some technical thing Jack’s interested in.’
‘Oh, rot. What’s the hurry? Dad’s in his room. Go and ask your question and then come back and have tea and a game.’
With the first part of the programme Pam was in full agreement. She murmured a reply and then moved on towards the library.
George Whiteside was seated in a deep armchair before the fire with a technical shipping journal open on his knees. Though retired, he liked to keep himself up to date in his former profession. He was a long-faced old man with a spikey nose and a clever, whimsical mouth. He loved a joke and the last word in an argument, and for relaxation read three detective novels a week. He greeted Pam and Jack jovially, but pointed out that they had come to the wrong room, as he didn’t suppose it was to see him that they were there.
‘Oh, but that’s just where you’re wrong, Cousin George,’ Pam retorted. ‘It’s you and nobody else we came down to see.’
He pretended to be overwhelmed by the honour, adding darkly that he expected there was a reason.
‘Of course there’s a reason. Jack’s legal mind, you know. You won’t catch him doing things from impulse.’
For a few minutes they sparred amicably in accordance with the old man’s mood, then Pam came to business.
‘We’ve got rather an interesting thing to tell you,’ she began with guile. ‘It interested us, who are not scientific, but it’ll simply thrill you. The very latest and most wonderful discovery, and we know the man who made it.’
Whiteside allowed himself a little sceptical chaff, but Pam could see he was interested, and when she went on to say that she and Jack had been sworn to silence, and that he must pass his word before she could go on, she saw that she had him properly hooked.
‘If you’re sworn to silence, why are you telling me?’ he asked.
‘Because we’re going to make you an offer. We’re going to let you in on it—if you want to come, of course—and, of course, on terms. You’ll find it the most fascinating thing you ever took up—far more interesting than that old stuff.’ She indicated the shipping journal with a disparaging gesture.
The old man chuckled. He liked Pam and was pleased to have her come and talk to him. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘terms! What a weight of meaning there is in the word! You remind me of poor old Magee. You could see the point of his funny stories about an hour before he got there himself. And what is it I’m to have the privilege of paying for?’
‘You won’t get anything at all if you don’t treat it more seriously,’ Pam said severely. ‘I can tell you you’ve no idea how important this is.’
‘Absolutely correct. How did you know?’
‘I’m afraid he’s in an unpleasant frame of mind. Come, Jack, we won’t waste our time on him. We’ll go elsewhere with our offer.’
‘Not if I know you,’ Whiteside shrugged. ‘Come on,’ he added, resigned, ‘let’s hear the worst.’
Pam grew serious. ‘Really, Cousin George, it’s the most wonderful thing. There’s simply no limit to the possibilities. There may be a dozen fortunes in it, besides the extraordinary benefit to the world. I just don’t know how to begin to tell you.’
‘Perhaps I can help you,’ the old man jeered. ‘What was the first you heard of it? Begin with that.’
‘It was through a man called M‘Morris, who lives at Hillsborough, that we heard of it. He met Jack,’ and Pam told of M‘Morris’s tentative inquiry and invitation to lunch, the meeting with Ferris, the story of Ferris’s discovery, and finally the suggestion that Whiteside might care to finance the remainder of the research.
The old man listened with an interest which grew keener as the story progressed. When Pam had finished he didn’t speak for some moments, evidently thinking over what he had heard.
‘Either of you know anything about these two fellows?’ he asked at last.
‘M‘Morris and his people have been living at Hillsborough all the time we’ve been there,’ answered Pam. ‘I’ve met him at games and so on, but I don’t know very much about him, really. Ferris I never saw before.’
‘M‘Morris has been there for ages,’ Jack added. ‘So far as I know, he’s all right.’
‘I note your overwhelming enthusiasm. Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go in to these fellows’ room where they do their experiments, and they can show me the petrol changing. If it really does what they say, I’ll finance them. What could be fairer than that?’
‘Nothing, Cousin George. You are a dear.’ She got up and impulsively brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘When will you come?’
‘Practical beneath the sentiment,’ he informed a non-existent audience, though obviously delighted with his payment. ‘I’ll go now—at least after tea. Is that soon enough?’
‘For that you’ll get another kiss. Will you come with us?’
‘No, there’s a contributory negligence clause in my life insurance. I’ll have M‘Dowell and the Daimler. I suppose I can get back in time for dinner?’
They reassured him—on somewhat inadequate grounds, as they had no idea how long a demonstration might take. But Pam believed in striking before the iron began to cool.
While old Mr Whiteside was getting ready, Jack passed on the splendid news and obtained the address of the ‘room’. Ferris and M‘Morris would return there immediately and prepare for the experiment.
An hour later the inhabitants of Warren Street, a rather sordid backwater running from the Lisburn Road down towards the Great Northern Railway, were thrilled by the unwonted spectacle of the arrival at No. 46 of two large motors, one a scintillating Daimler with a real chauffeur in livery. Such an event had never before been known in the street, and the passing of the travellers from the vehicles to the house was watched from the pavement by an admiring circle of infants and from adjoining windows by their seniors.
Ferris was a good host and did the honours creditably. He was respectful to Whiteside without obsequiousness, and his politeness to Pam was tempered with just the right amount of familiarity due to a prospective partner. M‘Morris silently seconded him.
The room proved to be a large attic at the back of the house, which was inhabited, so Ferris explained, by a railway guard. It was so full of chemical and electrical apparatus that there was little space for anything else, but by dint of piling a lot of their stuff into a corner, the two men had made room for three chairs, which they had borrowed from the guard’s wife. The visitors sat down.
‘What we have to show you, sir,’ went on Ferris, ‘can be done very easily, but you’ll forgive us if at this stage we don’t explain the whole of our method. If we are lucky enough to have you join us, we can then give full explanations. At present we want simply to show you what we can do.’
Whiteside nodded, and the others could see he approved the caution and the direct way in which it was admitted.
‘We’re also wanting to give you every safeguard against possible misunderstanding or’—Ferris smiled twistedly—‘fraud on our part. I hope we’re going to ask you to put money into this thing, so it’s only your due. No feeling, of course; it’s a matter of business. We propose, therefore, to ask you to supply the sample of petrol that we use. Here is a glass syringe, which you can see is empty. Maybe you’d ask your chauffeur to fill it from the tank of your car.’
‘Well, it’s like this,’ he said with a sharp glance at M‘Morris. ‘Suppose we represent the total work that’s wanted to make this affair a gold mine by a hundred per cent, we’ve already done ninety or ninety-five. What I mean is that so much has been done, that comparatively little more should finish it up. M‘Morris and I have worked at it on and off for nearly six months. If we could only get at it for a bit longer, particularly if we had Miss Grey’s help, I believe a short time would do the trick.’
‘Then why not do it?’
Ferris laughed. ‘Food,’ he said shortly. ‘Food and lodging and a spot of clothes. I mean we can’t carry on two jobs any longer—it’s too much for us. And we can’t afford to give up the one we’re paid for. You can be pretty sure, Penrose, that if we could have worked the thing alone, we should not have invited anyone into it with us, not even you and Miss Grey. But we can’t go on without help.’
Jack looked over doubtfully. ‘I dare say Pam would agree to help,’ he said; ‘and I certainly would if I was any use. But I mean help with our hands. Neither of us can put up any cash. At least I can’t.’
‘I would help,’ Pam declared. ‘I’d love it. But, as Jack says, it could only be with my hands. I couldn’t put up any cash. I haven’t got any to put.’
Ferris made a gesture of understanding. ‘You’re very good, Miss Grey,’ he said with some warmth. ‘And you, too, Penrose. You’re already giving us as much as we could expect: encouragement and an offer of technical assistance. But there was something else we had in mind; and, to tell you the honest truth, I’m not particularly wanting to mention it.’
Jack lit another cigarette. ‘Get along,’ he invited. ‘We’re here to hear the whole story, aren’t we?’
Once again Ferris changed his position. Then he looked at M‘Morris with a crooked grin. ‘Your turn, old man,’ he declared. ‘I’ve been talking too much.’
‘Just do your own dirty work,’ M‘Morris returned indignantly. ‘You’ll want the lion’s share in the square-up. Just go ahead and earn it.’
The others laughed and Ferris, with some show of embarrassment, returned to the subject.
‘We were thinking, M‘Morris and I, that if we could find some wealthy man who was interested in inventions and so on, he might care to come in on this. There would be a certain risk, of course. He might lose every penny he put in. But, on the other hand, he might make a hundred per cent, perhaps a thousand per cent. And he wouldn’t lose much if we did fail. Not enough to make any difference to him. Much less than many a man would put on a horse at one race. Far from doing us a favour, we should be giving him a chance that nine men out of ten would jump at.’
Jack grinned. ‘But could he be made to see that?’
‘I think so. After all, M‘Morris and I are not altogether fools in the way of chemistry, and we’d be showing our belief in the thing by giving up our jobs—the only thing we have to live by. I think a reasonable man could be convinced easily enough.’
Jack shook his head. ‘He’d be darned suspicious that you wanted some of his money for nothing, I’m afraid. Anyway, where would we find such a man?’
‘That’s the point—you’ve got to it now.’ Ferris glanced quickly up, and his eyes almost crackled. ‘We think we’ve found him.’
‘You’ve found him? Who is he?’ from Jack.
‘Do we know him, Mr Ferris?’ from Pam.
Ferris bent forward and spoke much more seriously. ‘Yes, you know him, both of you. You know him very well, Miss Grey. You mustn’t mind what I’m going to say. It’s Mr Whiteside.’
‘Oh,’ said Pam, and relapsed into silence.
Instantly she felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her. She had at first and unwillingly suspected an ulterior motive—and here it was. It was not her chemical knowledge and help these two wanted, still less was it Jack’s legal knowledge. It was George Whiteside’s money. She saw now the true inwardness of the whole manœuvre. Jack was approached only because they wanted to get hold of her, and she was wanted simply that she might act as a channel to George Whiteside, so that they might get money out of him. Interested as she had been, she had never wholly trusted either Ferris or M‘Morris. Now she saw that she had been justified.
William Grey, Pam’s father, and George Whiteside were first cousins. Old Mr Whiteside had occupied a high position in one of the Belfast shipyards, though he had retired some years earlier. He was now far advanced in the seventies, though he was still hale and hearty. He was a rich man and certainly could do what Ferris suggested without feeling it. He and Pam were close allies. Indeed Pam was treated as one of the family.
The Whitesides, father and two daughters, lived at Carnalea, near Bangor, on the Co. Down shore of Belfast Lough, and Pam spent a good deal of time with them. Mrs Whiteside had been dead for some years, and the girls ran the house for their father.
For a moment annoyance and a slight disgust filled Pam’s mind, then there came a reaction. She wondered whether she was not misjudging Ferris. After all, Cousin George was just the man to be interested in a thing of the kind. He had himself taken out many patents, and he liked nothing better than to be in the forefront of discovery and invention. And the amount of money Ferris wanted would be the merest bagatelle to him; he simply would not notice it. Even if he lost it all, Pam believed he would willingly pay it for the interest which the scheme might give him. And his life since his retirement was dull enough. It might indeed be worth putting the thing up to him. Besides, he was very far indeed from being a fool, and he knew something about chemistry. If these two hadn’t a really genuine proposition, he would pretty soon find it out.
Pam was also impressed by Ferris’s own argument that he and M‘Morris believed enough in their idea to give up their own job for it. In these times of unemployment that was, after all, a fairly severe test. No, perhaps she had been wrong in jumping too quickly to a conclusion.
‘And you want me to ask him?’ she said at length.
‘We wondered would you?’ Ferris answered. ‘You may think, Miss Grey, that our taking you and Penrose into our confidence was just a trick to get an approach to Mr Whiteside. Well, maybe it was. But you can judge of the proposition we want to put up. If you think it isn’t a suitable one, then don’t go further with it. We want to leave the decision entirely to yourself.’
This was straightforward and direct enough. She had judged too quickly. There was a lot to be said for the case Ferris had made out. But he was speaking again.
‘Perhaps I should tell you what was in our minds about dividing up any moneys we may get out of it. I thought—M‘Morris agrees with me—that if you and Penrose and Mr Whiteside come in we ought to divide our profits into seven parts. Two parts each to M‘Morris and myself, and one part to you other three. That would be subject to Mr Whiteside being first paid back what he advanced. We think it’s fair to ask double shares for ourselves, as the idea is ours, and because of all the work we’ve already put in. But,’ he smiled crookedly, ‘we would be open to reconsidering this if it be thought desirable.’
‘It could only be reconsidered to give you and Mr M‘Morris a larger share,’ Pam returned. ‘No, I think that’s a very handsome suggestion. What do you say, Jack?’
‘Quite all right. And I think they’re right about Mr Whiteside, too. He’d love it. You go down tomorrow and ask him, Pam. Or I’ll drive you down now.’
Keen delight shone in Ferris’s eyes at this sturdy support for his proposal. Obviously nothing could have pleased either him or M‘Morris better. ‘That would be splendid if Miss Grey would agree,’ he said tentatively. ‘If Mr Whiteside could be sounded, we would be available to put up our case at any time that he might arrange.’
‘If he goes into it at all, he’ll want to go into it at once. I’d suggest your coming, too, but it might look as if we were trying to rush him. Better stay near a telephone, so that we can get you if you’re wanted. Do you agree, Pam?’
Pam thought the arrangement was admirable, and they proceeded forthwith to put it into practice. She and Jack left at once for Carnalea, while the others remained in the hotel, so as to be in reach of the telephone. Whatever was arranged with Mr Whiteside, Jack was to let them know without delay.
The Penrose car bore two excited people from the station out into Whitla Street.
3
As Pamela Grey Saw It
The short February day was already drawing to a close as Jack and Pam drove out along the Bangor road. It was fine with a clear sky, but a bite in the air suggested frost. There was but little traffic, and Jack drove quickly. They soon passed through the rather drab streets on the east side of the Lagan and out into the comparative country of Sydenham. Then came Holywood and the rich, well-timbered estates leading up to Craigavad. An occasional glimpse of the Lough, the tiny village of Crawfordsburn, and finally Carnalea and the turn to the sea.
They passed the railway at Carnalea Station and went on down the road to the shore. The Whitesides lived in a red brick house of many gables standing in its own ground, one boundary being the beach itself. The space between the house and the beach had been levelled and turfed, making a lawn with a couple of tennis courts in the centre. Low evergreen shrubs where the ground sloped down to the shingle made the place private, but left the view open to the sea. In summer the outlook over the Lough was charming, with the ever changing colours of the water and the undulating line of the Antrim coast stretching from the dark square tower of Carrickfergus Castle to the bluff cliffs of Black Head and the Gobbins. On specially clear days the faintest trace of the far off Mull of Kintyre showed to the right of the Gobbins, an ethereal blue band above the hard black line of the sea. But in winter the view had to be paid for, when wild nor’-westers snorted in over a Lough of lead flecked with white, and masses of spindrift were carried across the grass and up to the windows of the house itself. Pam loved the sea in all its moods, whether it roared in its fury or, as it was now, dark and silent, though with a faint reflection from the still luminous western sky.
As they approached the door it opened, and a young woman appeared. She waved her arm.
‘Hallo!’ she cried. ‘Good business! We’re all alone, and were hoping someone would turn up. Tea’s just coming in, and after it we might try the new ping-pong table.’
This was Dorothy Whiteside, commonly called Dot. Between her and her sister Daphne there was the same contrast as between Ferris and M‘Morris. Dot was short, dark, energetic, and inclined to be stout; Daphne was tall, fair, thin and languid. As they invariably went about together, it was perhaps inevitable that the ‘p’ of Daphne’s name should be turned into an ‘s’, and that she should be called Dash. Dot and Dash made a formidable combination socially, and were in constant request by hostesses. Wherever games or dancing were to be found, there usually were the sisters.
‘We’d love some tea,’ Pam answered, ‘but I’m afraid we can’t stop to play. We really just dropped in for a minute to ask Cousin George a question. Some technical thing Jack’s interested in.’
‘Oh, rot. What’s the hurry? Dad’s in his room. Go and ask your question and then come back and have tea and a game.’
With the first part of the programme Pam was in full agreement. She murmured a reply and then moved on towards the library.
George Whiteside was seated in a deep armchair before the fire with a technical shipping journal open on his knees. Though retired, he liked to keep himself up to date in his former profession. He was a long-faced old man with a spikey nose and a clever, whimsical mouth. He loved a joke and the last word in an argument, and for relaxation read three detective novels a week. He greeted Pam and Jack jovially, but pointed out that they had come to the wrong room, as he didn’t suppose it was to see him that they were there.
‘Oh, but that’s just where you’re wrong, Cousin George,’ Pam retorted. ‘It’s you and nobody else we came down to see.’
He pretended to be overwhelmed by the honour, adding darkly that he expected there was a reason.
‘Of course there’s a reason. Jack’s legal mind, you know. You won’t catch him doing things from impulse.’
For a few minutes they sparred amicably in accordance with the old man’s mood, then Pam came to business.
‘We’ve got rather an interesting thing to tell you,’ she began with guile. ‘It interested us, who are not scientific, but it’ll simply thrill you. The very latest and most wonderful discovery, and we know the man who made it.’
Whiteside allowed himself a little sceptical chaff, but Pam could see he was interested, and when she went on to say that she and Jack had been sworn to silence, and that he must pass his word before she could go on, she saw that she had him properly hooked.
‘If you’re sworn to silence, why are you telling me?’ he asked.
‘Because we’re going to make you an offer. We’re going to let you in on it—if you want to come, of course—and, of course, on terms. You’ll find it the most fascinating thing you ever took up—far more interesting than that old stuff.’ She indicated the shipping journal with a disparaging gesture.
The old man chuckled. He liked Pam and was pleased to have her come and talk to him. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘terms! What a weight of meaning there is in the word! You remind me of poor old Magee. You could see the point of his funny stories about an hour before he got there himself. And what is it I’m to have the privilege of paying for?’
‘You won’t get anything at all if you don’t treat it more seriously,’ Pam said severely. ‘I can tell you you’ve no idea how important this is.’
‘Absolutely correct. How did you know?’
‘I’m afraid he’s in an unpleasant frame of mind. Come, Jack, we won’t waste our time on him. We’ll go elsewhere with our offer.’
‘Not if I know you,’ Whiteside shrugged. ‘Come on,’ he added, resigned, ‘let’s hear the worst.’
Pam grew serious. ‘Really, Cousin George, it’s the most wonderful thing. There’s simply no limit to the possibilities. There may be a dozen fortunes in it, besides the extraordinary benefit to the world. I just don’t know how to begin to tell you.’
‘Perhaps I can help you,’ the old man jeered. ‘What was the first you heard of it? Begin with that.’
‘It was through a man called M‘Morris, who lives at Hillsborough, that we heard of it. He met Jack,’ and Pam told of M‘Morris’s tentative inquiry and invitation to lunch, the meeting with Ferris, the story of Ferris’s discovery, and finally the suggestion that Whiteside might care to finance the remainder of the research.
The old man listened with an interest which grew keener as the story progressed. When Pam had finished he didn’t speak for some moments, evidently thinking over what he had heard.
‘Either of you know anything about these two fellows?’ he asked at last.
‘M‘Morris and his people have been living at Hillsborough all the time we’ve been there,’ answered Pam. ‘I’ve met him at games and so on, but I don’t know very much about him, really. Ferris I never saw before.’
‘M‘Morris has been there for ages,’ Jack added. ‘So far as I know, he’s all right.’
‘I note your overwhelming enthusiasm. Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go in to these fellows’ room where they do their experiments, and they can show me the petrol changing. If it really does what they say, I’ll finance them. What could be fairer than that?’
‘Nothing, Cousin George. You are a dear.’ She got up and impulsively brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘When will you come?’
‘Practical beneath the sentiment,’ he informed a non-existent audience, though obviously delighted with his payment. ‘I’ll go now—at least after tea. Is that soon enough?’
‘For that you’ll get another kiss. Will you come with us?’
‘No, there’s a contributory negligence clause in my life insurance. I’ll have M‘Dowell and the Daimler. I suppose I can get back in time for dinner?’
They reassured him—on somewhat inadequate grounds, as they had no idea how long a demonstration might take. But Pam believed in striking before the iron began to cool.
While old Mr Whiteside was getting ready, Jack passed on the splendid news and obtained the address of the ‘room’. Ferris and M‘Morris would return there immediately and prepare for the experiment.
An hour later the inhabitants of Warren Street, a rather sordid backwater running from the Lisburn Road down towards the Great Northern Railway, were thrilled by the unwonted spectacle of the arrival at No. 46 of two large motors, one a scintillating Daimler with a real chauffeur in livery. Such an event had never before been known in the street, and the passing of the travellers from the vehicles to the house was watched from the pavement by an admiring circle of infants and from adjoining windows by their seniors.
Ferris was a good host and did the honours creditably. He was respectful to Whiteside without obsequiousness, and his politeness to Pam was tempered with just the right amount of familiarity due to a prospective partner. M‘Morris silently seconded him.
The room proved to be a large attic at the back of the house, which was inhabited, so Ferris explained, by a railway guard. It was so full of chemical and electrical apparatus that there was little space for anything else, but by dint of piling a lot of their stuff into a corner, the two men had made room for three chairs, which they had borrowed from the guard’s wife. The visitors sat down.
‘What we have to show you, sir,’ went on Ferris, ‘can be done very easily, but you’ll forgive us if at this stage we don’t explain the whole of our method. If we are lucky enough to have you join us, we can then give full explanations. At present we want simply to show you what we can do.’
Whiteside nodded, and the others could see he approved the caution and the direct way in which it was admitted.
‘We’re also wanting to give you every safeguard against possible misunderstanding or’—Ferris smiled twistedly—‘fraud on our part. I hope we’re going to ask you to put money into this thing, so it’s only your due. No feeling, of course; it’s a matter of business. We propose, therefore, to ask you to supply the sample of petrol that we use. Here is a glass syringe, which you can see is empty. Maybe you’d ask your chauffeur to fill it from the tank of your car.’
