from him--some fact which had an important bearingupon the astounding affair.
Was Charlie playing a straight game? After long consideration he hadcome again to the conclusion that he was not!
In his ear was the voice of the tempter Jean Adam. Fortune awaited himin that sunlit city of white domes and minarets beside the Bosphorus--the city of veiled women and of mystery he had always hoped to visit.Would he not spare fourteen days, travel there, and obtain it?
It was a great temptation. The concession for that railway would indeedhave been a temptation to any man. Did not the late Baron Hirsch laythe foundation of his huge fortune by a similar irade of his Majesty theSultan?
The man seated in the deep armchair with the cigarette between his lipslooked at his victim through his half-closed eyes, as a snake watchesthe bird he fascinates.
Jean Adam was an excellent judge of human nature. He had placed there abait which could not fail to attract, if not to-day, then to-morrow--orthe next day. He had gauged Max Barclay with a precision only given tothose who live upon their wits.
To every rule there are, of course, exceptions. Every man who livesupon his wits is not altogether bad. Curious though it may be, thereare many adventurers to be met with in every capital in Europe, who,though utterly unscrupulous, have in their nature one point of the mostscrupulous honour--one point which redeems them from being classed asutter blackguards.
Many a man, who will stick at nothing where money can be made, is loyal,honest, and upright towards a woman; while another will with one handswindle the wealthy, and with the other give charity to the poor. Fewmen, indeed, are altogether bad. Yet when they are, they are, alas!outsiders indeed.
Adam was a man who had no compunction where men were concerned, and verylittle when a woman stood in his way. His own adventures would havemade one of the most interesting volumes ever written. Full ofingenuity and tact, fearless when it came to facing exposure, andlight-hearted whenever the world smiled upon him, he was a marvellousadmixture of good fellow and scoundrel.
He knew that his clever story had fascinated the man before him, andthat it was only a question of time before he would fall into the net socleverly spread.
"When do you anticipate you could go East--that is, providing I can getthe matter postponed?" asked Adam at last, as he placed his cigaretteend in the ash-tray.
"I can't give you a date," replied Max. "It is quite uncertain. Whynot go to somebody else?"
"I tell you I have no desire to do so, my dear friend," was theFrenchman's reply. "I like you. That is why I placed the businessbefore you. I know, of course, there are a thousand men in the City whowould only jump at this chance of such a big thing."
"Then why not go to them?" repeated Max, a little surprised and yet alittle flattered.
"As I have told you, I would rather take you into partnership. We havealready decided to do the thing on a sound business basis. Indeed, Iwent to my lawyers only yesterday and gave orders for the agreement tobe drawn up between us. You'll receive it to-night or to-morrow."
"Well," replied Max with some hesitation, "if it is to be done, it mustbe done later. At present I cannot get away. My place is in London."
"Beside the lady to whom you are so devoted, eh?" the Frenchman laughed.
Max was irritated by the man's veiled sarcasm.
"No. Because I have a duty to perform towards a friend, and even thetemptation of a fortune shall not cause me to neglect it."
"A friend. Whom?"
"The matter is my own affair. It has nothing to do with our business,"was Max's rather sharp response.
"Very well," said the other, quite unruffled. "I can only regret. Iwill wire to-night to Muhil Pasha, and endeavour to obtain apostponement of the agreement."
"As you wish," Max said, still angered at this importation of the womanhe loved into the discussion. "I may as well say that it is quiteimmaterial."
"To you it may be so. But I am not rich like yourself," the other said."I have to obtain my income where I can by honest means, and this is achance which I do not intend to lose. I look to you--I hold you to yourpromise, Barclay--to assist me."
"I do not intend to break my promise. I merely say that I cannot go outto Turkey at once."
"But you will come--you will promise that in a few days--in a week--orwhen you have finished this mysterious duty to your friend, that youwill come with me?" he urged. "Come, give me your hand. I don't wantto approach anybody else."
"Well, if you really wish it," Max replied, and he gave the tempter hishand in pledge.
When, a few seconds later, Jean Adam turned to light a fresh cigarettethere was upon his thin lips a smile--a sinister smile of triumph.
Max Barclay had played dice with the Devil, and lost. He had, in hisignorance of the net spread about him, in that moment pledged his ownhonour.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
OLD SAM HAS A VISITOR.
It was past midnight.
At eleven o'clock old Sam Statham had descended from the mysteriousupper regions, emerged from the green baize door upon the stairs, whichconcealed another white-enamelled door--a door of iron, and, passingdown to the study, had switched on the electric light, thrown himselfwearily into an armchair, and lit a cigar.
Upon his grey, drawn countenance was a serious apprehensive look, as ofa man who anticipated serious trouble, and who was trying in vain tobrave himself up to face it. For nearly half an hour he had smoked onalone, now and then muttering to himself, his bony fingers clenched asthough anticipating revenge. The big room was so silent at that hourthat a pin if dropped might have been heard. Only the clock ticked onsolemnly, and striking the half-hour upon its silvery bell.
The old millionaire who, on passing through that baize-covered door, hadlocked the inner door so carefully after him, seemed strangely agitated.So apprehensive was he that Levi, entering some time afterwards, saidin his sharp, brusque manner:
"I thought you had retired long ago. What's the matter?"
"I have an appointment," snapped his master; "an important one."
"Rather late, isn't it?" suggested the old servant. "Remember thatthere are spies about. That little affair the other night aroused somecuriosity--I'm certain of it."
"Among a few common passers-by. Bah! my dear Levi, they don't knowanything."
"But they may talk! This house has already got a bad name, you know."
"Well, that's surely not my fault," cried the old man with a fiery flashin his eyes. "It's more your fault for acting so infernallysuspiciously and mysteriously. I know quite well what people say ofme."
"A good deal that's true," declared old Levi in open defiance of the manin whose service he had been so long.
Sam Statham grinned. It was a subject which he did not wish to discuss.
"You can go to bed, Levi. I'll open the door," he said to the man whowas his janitor.
"Who's coming?" inquired Levi abruptly.
"A friend. I want to talk to him seriously and alone."
"What's his name?"
"Don't be so infernally inquisitive, Levi. Go to bed, I tell you," hecroaked with a commanding wave of the hand.
The servant never thwarted his master's wishes. He knew Sam Statham toowell. A strange smile played about the corners of his mouth, and helooked around to see that the whisky, syphons and glasses were on theside table. Then with a rather ill-grace said:
"Very well--good-night," and, bowing, he retired.
When the door had closed the old millionaire ground his teeth,muttering:
"You must always poke your infernal long nose into my affairs. But thismatter I'll keep to myself just for once. I'm tired of your constantinterference and advice. Ah!" he sighed. "How strange life is! SamuelStatham, millionaire, they call me. I saw it in the _Pall Mall_to-night. Rather Sam Statham, pauper--the Pauper of Park Lane! Ah! Ifthe public only knew! If they only knew!" he gasped, halting suddenlyand staring wildly about him. "What would be
my future--what will it bewhen my enemies, like a pack of wolves, fall upon me and tear me limbfrom limb? Yes, yes, they'll do that if I am unable to save myself.
"But why need I anticipate failure? What does the sacrifice of onewoman matter when it will mean the assurance of my future--my salvationfrom ruin?" he went on, speaking to himself in a low, hoarse voice."It's a thing I cannot tell Levi. He must find it out. He will--oneday--when the police inquiries give him the clue," and he snapped hisown white fingers nervously and glanced at the clock in apprehension.
He threw down his cigar, for it had gone out a long time ago. SamStatham's life had been made up of many crises, and one of these he waspassing