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Updated: May 31, 2025
Cornish looked at him for a moment, and then spoke, addressing Von Holzen. "We came here to make a final proposal to you," he said; "to place before you, in fact, our ultimatum. We do not pretend to conceal from you the fact that we are anxious to avoid all publicity, all scandal. But if you drive us to it, we shall unhesitatingly face both in order to close these works.
He spoke English correctly but slowly, with the Dutch accent, which is slighter and less guttural than the German. Dorothy was interested in him, and continued to talk with him, leaving Cornish standing at a little distance, teacup in hand. Von Holzen was in strong contrast to the two Englishmen. He was graver, more thoughtful, a man of deeper purpose and more solid intellect.
She was, therefore, gratified when Von Holzen made his way slowly towards her through the crowd on the Kursaal terrace one afternoon on the occasion of a Thursday concert. She was sitting alone in a far corner of the terrace, protected by a glass screen from the wind which ever blows at Scheveningen. She never mingled with the summer visitors at this popular Dutch resort indeed, knew none of them.
A woman's dearest friend is she whose faults will bear the closest investigation. It was doubtless owing to these trifling variations in temperament that Joan Ferriby learnt more about The Hague and Percy Roden and Otto von Holzen, and lastly, though not leastly, Mrs. Vansittart, in ten minutes than Tony Cornish could have learnt in a month of patient investigation.
He caught, as he passed the window, a glimpse of Roden bending over a great ledger which lay open before him on the table, while Von Holzen, at another desk, was writing letters in his neat German hand. Then Cornish went to the door, opened it, and passing in, closed it behind him. "Good evening," he said, with just a slight exaggeration of his usual suave politeness.
"I think it probable," Roden had said, before she left the dining-room, "that Von Holzen will come in this evening." She sat down before the fire, which burnt briskly, and looked into it with thoughtful, clever grey eyes. Percy thought it probable that Von Holzen would come to the Villa des Dunes this evening. Would he come?
And some tons of malgamite were made, while a manufacturer or two of the grim product laid aside his tools forever, while the money flowed in, and Otto von Holzen thought out his deep silent plans over his vats and tanks and crucibles. And all the while those who write in the book of fate had penned the last decree. Cornish arrived punctually at The Hague.
He was addressing Major White, Tony Cornish, Von Holzen, and Percy Roden, convened to a meeting in the private salon occupied by the Ferribys at the Hotel of the Old Shooting Gallery, at The Hague.
For Percy Roden was handicapped with that greatest of all drags on a successful career a soft heart. He could speak harshly enough of the malgamiters as a class, but he was drawn towards this dumb individual, with a strong desire to effect the impossible. Von Holzen had not promised that there should be no deaths.
A yellow hand stretching from a dark heap of bedclothes clutched the glass and held it out, empty, when Von Holzen came into the room. "I have sent for milk," said the professor, smoking hard, and heedful not to look too closely into the dark corner where the bed was situated. "You are kind," said a voice, and it was impossible to guess whether its tone was sarcastic or grateful.
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