The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper
a Lunar Guide and The Sportsman. Quite so, old boy—I know."
"No, really, Hugh," said Toby seriously, "the old office has not been the usual rest-cure just lately. Strong men have rushed in and out and conferred behind locked doors, and the strain has been enormous. Made one quite dizzy to see them. However, It's been better the last two or three days, ever since old Blantyre came back from Switzerland."
Drummond adroitly kicked the Professor's leg.
"And who is old Blantyre?" he remarked carelessly, "and why does he go to Switzerland?"
"Sir Raymond Blantyre is the head of the syndicate to which our firm belongs, though why he went to Switzerland I haven't any idea. All I can tell you is that he went out there looking like nothing on earth, and came back two days later smiling all over his face."
"Speaks well for the Swiss air," said Hugh dryly. "However, let's go and inspect the menu."
He led the way towards the dining-room, and his expression was thoughtful. If, as he had been given to understand, Sir Raymond Blantyre was now facing immediate ruin, it was a little difficult to see why he should be smiling all over his face. It showed, at any rate, a resignation to Fate which was beyond all praise. Unless, of course, something had happened in Switzerland... But, then, what could have happened? Had he gone over there to dispose of his stock before the crash came? He felt very vague as to whether it would be possible to do such a thing. Anyway, it mightn't be a bad idea to find out where he had been to in Switzerland. Just for future reference; in case anything happened.
"Yes—a deuced good advertisement for the Swiss air, old man," he repeated, after they had sat down. "Where did he go to?"
"You seem very interested in his wanderings," said Toby with a laugh. "As a matter of fact, I believe he went to Montreux, but since he was only there a day, the air can't have had much to do with it."
Hugh glanced through the window; the man who had been following the Professor was still loitering about the corner of the square. And the frown on his face grew more pronounced. It beat him—the whole thing beat him completely. Especially the threatening letter....
"You're marvellously merry and bright this morning, old boy."
Toby broke off his desultory conversation with the Professor and regarded Hugh with the eye of an expert. "I don't think you can have been mother's angel-boy last night. Anyway, what is this important thing you wanted to see me about?" With an effort his host pulled himself together.
"I was thinking, Toby," he remarked, "and you know what an awful effect that always has on my system. Look here, diamonds are a pretty good thing, aren't they, as a birthday present for Phyllis?" Toby stared at him. "I think they're a very good thing," he remarked. "Why?"
"No danger of them losing their value?"
"None whatever. The output is far too carefully controlled for that."
"But supposing someone came along and manufactured them cheap?"
Toby laughed. "You needn't worry about that, old man. It has been done in the past, and the results cost more than the genuine article."
"Yes, but supposing it did happen," persisted Hugh. "Supposing a process was discovered by which big stones—really big stones could be made for a mere sou—what then?"
Toby shrugged his shoulders. "The discoverer of the process could ask practically what he liked to suppress it," he answered.
"And if it wasn't suppressed—if it became known?"
"If it became widely known it would mean absolute ruin to thousands of people. You may take it from me, old man, that in the first place such a process is never likely to be found, and, if it ever was, that it would never come out."
Hugh flashed a warning glance at the Professor.
"There are hundreds of millions of pounds involved directly or indirectly in the diamond business," went on Toby. "So I think you can safely invest in a few if you want to, for Phyllis."
He glanced at his watch and rose. "Look here, I must be toddling. Another conference on this afternoon. If you want any advice on choosing them, old boy, I'm always in the office from eleven-thirty to twelve."
Hugh watched him cross the room; then he turned thoughtfully to the Professor.
"So that's that," he said. "Now, what about a bit of Stilton and a glass of light port while we consider the matter?"
"But I knew all that before, and it has no influence on me, Drummond. None at all."
The Professor was snorting angrily. "I will not be intimidated into the suppression of a far-reaching chemical discovery by any considerations whatever."
"Quite so," murmured Hugh soothingly. "I thought you'd probably feel like that about it. But it's really Algy I'm thinking about. As you know, He's a dear old pal of mine; his wedding is fixed in about a month, and since that is the only thing that can possibly restore him to sanity, we none of us want it postponed."
"Why should it be postponed?" cried the Professor.
"Mourning in the bride's family," said Drummond. "The betting is a tenner to a dried banana that you expire within a week. Have some more cheese?"
"Don't be absurd, Drummond. If you think you are going to persuade me—you're wrong. I suppose that foolish boy Algy has been trying to enlist you on his side."
"Now look here, Professor," said Hugh quietly. "Will you listen to me for a moment or two? It is perfectly true that Algy did suggest to me this morning that I should try to persuade you to accept the offer Sir Raymond made you. But I am not going to do anything of the sort. I may say that even this morning it struck me that far more serious things were at stake than your acceptance or refusal of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. I am not at all certain in my own mind that if you accepted the money you would even then be safe. You are the owner of far too dangerous a piece of knowledge. However, as I say, it struck me this morning that things were serious—now I'm sure of it, after what Toby said. He evidently knows nothing about it, so the big men are keeping it dark. Moreover, the biggest man of all, according to him, seems perfectly pleased with life at the present moment. Yet it's not due to anything that you have done; you haven't told them that you will accept their offer. Then why is he pleased? Most people wouldn't be full of happiness when they were facing immediate ruin. Professor, you may take it from me—and I am not an alarmist by any means—that the jolly old situation has just about as many unpleasant snags sticking out of it as any that I have ever contemplated. And I've contemplated quite a few in my life."
He sat back in his chair and drained his port, and the Professor, impressed in spite of himself, looked at him in perplexity.
"Then what do you suggest that I should do, Drummond?" he said. "These sort of things are not at all in my line."
Hugh smiled. "No, I suppose they're not. Well, I'll tell you what I would suggest your doing. If you are determined to go through with this, I would first of all take that threatening letter to Scotland Yard. Ask for Sir Bryan Johnstone, tell him you're a pal of mine, call him Tum-tum, and he'll eat out of your hand. If you can't see him, round up Inspector McIver, and tell him—well, as much or as little as you like. Of course, it's a little difficult. You can hardly accuse Sir Raymond Blantyre of having sent it. But still it seems the only thing to do. Then I propose that you and your wife and your daughter should all come away, and Algy too, and stop with my wife and me, for a little house-warming party at a new place I've just bought down in Sussex. I'll rope in a few of Algy's pals and mine to stop there too and we'll keep an eye on you, until the meeting of the Royal Society."
"It's very good of you, Drummond," said the Professor uncertainly. "I hardly know what to say. This letter, for instance."
He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a bunch of papers, which he turned over in his hands.
"To think that there's all this trouble over that," he continued, holding out two or three sheets of notepaper. "Whereas nobody worries over these notes on albumenised proteins."