Part 6 (1/2)

”You're not going to drag him back to Paris!”

Again there was annoyance in her voice, and Lars Larssen made a quick resolution. He answered: ”Certainly not, if you don't wish it. Rather than that, I'll come myself to Monte.”

”That's charming of you!”

”The least I can do. I'll wire later when to expect me.”

”Many thanks.”

When the conversation had concluded, the s.h.i.+powner called the young secretary and asked him to bring in the new ”Thor” travelling typewriter he had purchased that afternoon. Larssen had proved right in his guess of the make of machine with which his sc.r.a.p of typing had been done.

”Take a letter. Envelope first,” said Larssen.

”You want me to take it direct on the machine, sir?”

”Yes.” The s.h.i.+powner began to dictate. ”Monsieur G. R. Coulter, Rue Laffitte, 8, Paris.... Now for the letter.... Cherbourg, March 15th.”

”Any address above Cherbourg?”

”Not at present. 'Cherbourg, March 15th. Dear Coulter, I am called away to Canada on business. The matter is very private, and I want my trip kept very quiet. I leave affairs in your hands until my return. Get my luggage from my hotel and keep it in the office. If anything urgent arises, my name and address will be Arthur Dean, Hotel Ritz-Carlton, Montreal.'”

The young secretary went white, and his fingers dropped from the keys of the typewriter.

”Sir!”

It was a moment of crisis.

”Well?” asked Lars Larssen sharply.

”A letter like that, sir...!”

”You don't care to go to Canada?”

”It's not that, but----” He stammered, and stopped short.

Lars Larssen allowed a moment of silence to give weight to his coming words. He drew out a cheque-book from his breast-pocket and very deliberately said: ”Make yourself out a cheque for a usual month's wages, and bring it to me to sign. That will be in lieu of notice.”

Arthur Dean took the cheque-book with shaking fingers and went to the adjoining room.

When at length he came back, he found the s.h.i.+powner making out a telegram. He stood in silence until the telegram was given into his hand, open, with an order to send it off to London. His glance fell involuntarily on the writing, and he could see that the wire was to call over somebody to replace him.

”I don't think this will be necessary, sir,” said Dean, with a tremor in his voice which told of the mental struggle he had been through in the adjoining room, when his career lay staked on the issue of a single decision.

It was not without definite purpose that Lars Larssen had put the cheque-book into his hands. He knew well the power of suggestion, and used it with a master-hand. He could almost see the young secretary torn between the thoughts of a miserable 8 on the one hand, and the illimitable wealth suggested by a blank cheque-book on the other.

”Understand this,” answered Larssen. ”Whichever way you decide matters nothing to me from the business point of view. I can get a dozen, twenty men to replace you at a moment's notice. If you don't care to go to Canada, you're perfectly free to say so. Then we part, because you're useless to me. Aside from the purely business point of view, I should be sorry. I like you; I see possibilities in you; I could help you up the business ladder.”

”That's very good of you, sir.”