Part 7 (1/2)

But for all his understanding he had no intention of accepting his own reading without proof from the only direction in which proof could come.

”And what is the commercial aspect of the matter--between us?” he enquired in his most businesslike tone.

Mr. Smith looked up in a startled way from the deep reverie into which his own words had plunged him.

”Commercial?” he echoed a little helplessly.

”Yes.” Ruxton smiled. ”The--price.”

Mr. Smith nodded readily and smiled back. But his reply carried no conviction.

”Yes, yes,” he said hurriedly. ”I was thinking. Of course--yes. The price.”

His infantile manner brought a smile to the shrewd face of Sir Andrew.

Ruxton only waited.

”I--had forgotten,” Mr. Smith went on. Then, with his curious tenacious hands clasped about one knee, a hopeless sort of distress slowly filled his eyes. ”It--it is difficult,” he stumbled. Then quite suddenly a world of relief seemed to come to him. ”Would it not be better to leave terms until you have seen, and proved for yourselves, of what my constructed vessel is capable? You see, any price I could name now would sound--er--excessive.”

The manner of this strange creature was so delightfully naive that even the keen Yorks.h.i.+re features of Sir Andrew were reduced to a smile of enjoyment.

”That's the way I like to hear an inventor talk, Mr. Smith,” he cried heartily. ”Most of 'em want large sums in options on the bare model and registered patents. If your invention--the constructed vessel is capable of what you claim for it, it is worth--millions.”

But the millionaire's encouragement seemed to have an adverse effect upon the inventor. Trouble crept again into his eyes, and he pa.s.sed one thin hand across his splendid forehead.

”If it serves to save innocent lives in the future, sir, it has done all that I ask of it,” he said at last. ”Its value to me then could never be reckoned in millions. There would not be enough cyphers in the mind of man to express that value.”

To Ruxton the riddle of this man was growing in obscurity. For all his understanding Mr. Smith's att.i.tude demanded explanation which as yet he was unable to give it.

But something in the nature of solution to the riddle was nearer than he had supposed. It came in the man's words which were added in further reply to his father.

”I have no fear but my invention will do these things,” he said with strong conviction. ”But,” he added almost sombrely, ”I have other fears.”

”Others?”

The commercial mind of Sir Andrew was sharply suspicious.

”Yes.”

Again came that troubled movement of the hand across the forehead. The man hesitated in a painful, embarra.s.sed way. Then, with a perfectly helpless gesture, he blurted out something of that which Ruxton had been waiting for.

”Yes, yes,” he cried, his eyes full of a pa.s.sionate light. ”I have fears, other fears. Nor are they idle. Nor are they to be belittled. I came here in secret. No one but my two confidential men, who brought this model, know of my coming. No one knows my whereabouts at all, but you, and those two men whom I can trust--even with my life. Fears. My G.o.d, if you only knew. I tell you there are people in the world, if they knew of my visit to you, if they saw that model lying on your table, who would not rest until my life was forfeited, and the utility of my invention to this country was destroyed forever.”

The man stood up. His great height was drawn up to its uttermost. He was breathing hard, but the light in his eyes was not of the fear of which he spoke. They were burning with a strained defiance of that threat he knew to be hanging over him.

The others rose from their chairs simultaneously. Both were startled.

But Sir Andrew far more than his son. Startlingly as the revelation had come, to Ruxton it _was_ revelation. And now it was he who took the initiative. He leant across the table.