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But better even than this, in Alex's estimation, a few mornings after the chief despatcher called him to the wire and announced his appointment as night operator at Foothills, a small town on the western division. Not long after Alex left Bixton to take up his duties at Foothills, Jack, at Hammerton, also received an advancement.
Hammerton, who had taken his interview as a foregone conclusion, looked momentarily astounded; but on top of that his manner changed again, to meet Varney's changed one, in the wink of an eye. "You can't mean," he said briskly, ignoring Varney's last remark entirely, "that you decline to make a statement for our readers?"
The final and particular result of the affair, however, was the offer to Jack of a good position in the large commercial telegraph office at Hammerton, which he at last induced his parents to permit him to accept.
"We are putting in a set of repeaters here, so you can reach him this way." A moment later Jack heard Hammerton calling him from the north, and in another moment he was again sending rapidly. But scarcely had Jack sent a hundred words when this wire also suddenly failed. When several minutes again passed and no further sound came, Jack leaned back in despair. Suddenly he sat upright.
A brilliant plan had flashed into his mind a big daring plan which, far more than anything else he had thought of, might be effective and final. Instead of making an enemy of Hammerton, which could accomplish nothing, it would turn him into a champion, which meant victory. It was a desperate solution, but it was a solution. After all, what else remained?
But he permitted himself to be helped quite liberally, with no protesting "when." "My regards, Mr. Varney! Also my compliments and thanks for accepting the situation like such a genuine game one." Varney nodded. "The fortunes of war, Mr. Hammerton. But do go on.
Toovey, a young don overflowing with mild intelligence, exclaimed, deferentially: "Really, Master! Really! How extremely interesting! Now do please tell us a great deal about Lady Hammerton." The Master took no notice whatever of Toovey. He sat about a minute longer in his familiar posture, looking before him, his little round hands on his little round knees.
But Hammerton, never to be stopped by details now, ignored both the insult and the blow. He was on the rail like a cat, ready to swim for it, hot to take his great scoop to Mrs. Carstairs, to Coligny Smith, to readers of newspapers all over the land. The table was between them, and it went over with a crash. Quick as he was, Varney was barely in time.
He had missed the much-wanted cashier whose capture meant a triumph over the whole detective world. Descriptions and measurements were so alike. Both from the same city, one with the name of Hamilton, the other with that of Hammerton. Kobu, those names are enough alike to be brothers, though I'm glad they are not." But Kobu was not to be coaxed into any excuse for himself.
His hand fell upon the reporter's coat when another fraction of a second would have been too late. Then he flung backward with a wrench, and Hammerton came toppling heavily to the deck. Smarting with the pain of the fall, hot with anger at last, the reporter was up in an instant, spitting blood, and they clenched with the swiftness of lightning.
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