Men of Affairs. Roland Pertwee
force."
"A medicine?"
"Call it a medicine. It's lying out in the open within a little march of the common ways of men and women. I tumbled on the find by a stroke of luck and a little knowledge and a word inside me that whispered, 'Look, go and look.' You've read Kipling's 'Explorer'—I read it you. 'Something lost behind the ranges—something hidden, go you there.' It was like that with me—a pringly feeling—a kind of second sense—expectancy—belief—certainty. Nature has a trick of showing the combination of her treasure safe to one man before the rest—and I was the man."
The little chestnut head shook helplessly from side to side.
"What is it you've found?" said Isabel.
He looked at her searchingly and hesitated.
"If I tell you you'll keep it secret?"
"Yes."
"Honest?"
"Honest."
He dropped his voice.
"It's radium," he said.
She repeated the word dully.
"Radium as it never had been found before. A—whew! an inexhaustible supply. Look—look here!"
He drew from his pocket a small black cylinder with a glass peephole at the top, protected by a circular cap of a dark substance.
"It's the finest piece of radium ever found," he said, "and where I got it, at a single dip of the shovel—but never mind that. See, protect it with your hand so, and look through that eyehole."
At the bottom of the cylinder was a luminous speck like a fire seen from a long way off. Waves and jags of angry light burst from it ceaselessly, this way and that. The restless mass was alive, active, burning. Infinitesimal though its dimensions were it gave a sense of illimitable force and power, a prodigious energy.
Isabel returned the cylinder with a nervous shudder.
"I don't like it," she said. "It—it's horrid somehow—wicked looking." She shot a quick glance at him. "You say this is going to be of value to the world!"
He nodded.
"Then why are you in danger? Why aren't you protected as someone who—
Why are you in danger?"
He didn't answer at once and again she repeated the question.
"It's this way, dear," he said. "When anything great enough is discovered there is bound to be competition. I found the stuff but I haven't the capital to exploit it. I took my samples to a ring of financiers who are backing me."
"Mr. Torrington? Mr. Cassis?"
"Cranbourne—Frayne—that crowd. By sheer bad luck another ring got news of what was going on and are moving heaven and earth to get a share in the plunder."
"So it's plunder now," she said.
"From their point of view."
"And from yours?"
"Achievement—a game."
"That you're willing to risk your life for."
"One doesn't think of that," he answered.
"I do," she said.
"Wish I could give you some of my enthusiasm. What is it old Kipling says again:
'The game is more than the Player of the Game
'And the ship is more than the crew.'"
"Old Kipling, as you call him, wrote for men. What did he know about me?"
"Enough to guess you wouldn't have much use for us if we shirked standing our chances."
"The chances being?"
"The assault or favour of the other side."
"Favour?" she repeated.
Barraclough nodded and took from his pocket a folded sheet of notepaper.
"Listen to this," he said and read: "'Dear Mr. Barraclough, if you would grant me ten minutes private conversation, at your own convenience, I should be pleased to reward the courtesy with a sum of twenty-five thousand pounds. Faithfully yours, Hugo Van Diest.' And that's only ground bait."
"Did you meet him?"
"No fear."
Isabel rubbed her forehead perplexedly.
"Oh, I don't know," she said, "I don't understand. But if this radium belongs to your side already——"
"That's just it," he explained. "I haven't got the concession yet. They know that—it's what makes 'em so devilish active. You'll understand they'll do their best to prevent me getting to the place."
Her eyes opened very wide.
"Their best? D'you mean they'd——"
"Lord, no. There'd be no point in that unless they had the map reference first."
"You'll be gone three weeks?"
"That's all."
"They'll follow you?"
"You bet they'll try."
"Suppose they got you! Tony! Tony, they might try and make you speak."
He did his best to calm her but she went on furiously.
"It's true. Men are brutes—vile beasts—where money is concerned. Oh, I hate this—hate every bit of it. Power—healing—it's only another name for the money grab—the horrible cutthroat money grab. Tony, you shan't go—I won't let you go—I'll prevent you by every means——"
"Now, my dear," he begged, putting his arms about her, "be a good sensible little girl—be a baby for three weeks. You've all your trousseau to get—heaps of people to see. Why not run over to Paris for a week? Then there's my mother in Devon. She'd be tremendously bucked if——"
"Is this place abroad?" said Isabel.
"I can't tell that even to you."
"When are you starting?"
"Probably in three days' time—latish."
"You're determined to go?"
"I must."
"Nothing I can say will prevent you?"
"I'm sorry, dear."
"Hm!" said Isabel. "Then I suppose we'd better make the most of the time that's left."
And very slowly she subsided on the Cushion pile in the corner, her chin resting on his shoulder and her left hand playing idly with a long gold tassel.
"Oh, you angel," he exclaimed, "I knew you wouldn't really make any difficulties. And there's no need to be frightened because they're fixing me up the easiest get-away in the world."
"I haven't promised anything," she answered noncommittally. Her eyes flashed up to his and in them shone the sweetest light imaginable. "But just for now I'm sitting on the floor again."
They forgot all about lunch.
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