Part 22 (1/2)

The old fellow's eyes twinkled as he drew out a cheque and pushed it across the table.

”Put that in your pocket, and go and talk to Mr. Foot's brother,” he said.

Andy's start was almost a jump; old Jack's pent-up mirth broke out explosively.

”But this--this is supernatural!” cried Andy.

”Looks like it, don't it? How did I find out about that? Well, it shows, Andy, that it's no use you thinkin' of tryin' not to keep a certain promise you made to me--because I find you out!”

”Dear old Jack!” Andy was standing by him now, his hand on his shoulder.

”I don't believe I could have kept the promise in this case. I think I should have gone back--since the thing's no go in London.”

”Yes, you'd have gone back--just like your obstinate ways. But I found out. I've my correspondents.”

”But there's been no time! Well, you are one too many for me, Jack!”

Jack's pride in his cunning was even greater than his delight in his benevolence. ”Perhaps I've had a wireless telegram?” he suggested, wagging his head. ”Or a carrier pigeon? Who knows?”

”But who was it told you?”

”You've got some friends I didn't know of, up there in London. Havin'

your fling, are you, Andy? That's right. And very good taste you seem to have too.” He nodded approvingly.

”Oh, I give it up,” said Andy. ”You're a wizard, Jack.”

”If you talk about a witch, you'll be a bit nearer the point, I reckon.

Not meanin' me, I need hardly say! Well, I must let you into the secret.” With enormous pride he produced Miss Doris Flower's letter.

”Read that, my lad.”

”The Nun!” cried Andy, as his eye fell on the signature. ”Who'd have thought of that?”

He read the letter; he listened to Jack's enraptured story of how it had arrived. ”And you're not goin' to shame her by refusin' the money now, are you?” asked cunning Jack. ”If you do, you'll make her feel she's been meddlin'. Nice thing to make her feel that!”

Andy saw through this little device, but he only patted Jack's shoulder again, saying quietly, ”I'll take the money, Jack.” All the kindness made his heart very full--whether it came from old-time friends or these new friends from a new world who made his cause theirs with so ready a sympathy.

”You're launched now, lad--fair launched! And I know you'll float,” said old Jack, grave at last, as he took his leave, his precious letter most carefully stowed away in his breast-pocket. It had been a great day for Jack, great for what he had done, great for the way in which his doing it had come about.

Within less than twenty-four hours Montreal had been written to, Gilly Foot had been written to--and Andy was at the Nun's door.

She dwelt with Miss Dutton in a big block of flats near Sloane Street, very high up. Her sitting-room was small and cosy, presenting, however, one marked peculiarity. On two of the walls the paper was red, on the other two green. Seeing Andy's eyes attracted by this phenomenon, the Nun explained: ”We quarrelled over the colour to such an extent that at last I lost my temper, and, when Sally was away for a day, had it done like this--to spite her. Now she won't let me alter it, because it's a perpetual warning to me not to lose my temper. But it does look a little queer, doesn't it?”

She had received him with her usual composure. ”I knew you'd come, because I knew Mr. Jack Rock would do as I wanted, and I was sure he couldn't keep the letter to himself. Well, that's all right! It was only that the obvious thing wanted doing.”

”But I don't see--well, I don't see why you should care.”

She looked at him, a lurking laugh in her eye.

”Oh, you needn't suppose that it was life and death to me! It was rather fun, just on its own account. You'll like Gilly; he's a good sort, though he's rather greedy. Did you notice that? Billy's really my friend. I'm very fond of Billy. Are you ambitious? Billy's very ambitious.”