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Updated: April 30, 2025
At all events I had made my explosive, and that was one great step towards a solution of some sort. If McMurtrie was prepared to play the game with me I should in a few days be in what the newspapers call "a position of comparative affluence," while if his intentions were less straightforward I should at least have some definite idea as to where I was.
A shot from his revolver or the smashing of the French window was to be the signal for their united entrance on the scene. "Well, you know the end of the story as well as I do," he finished, nicking off the ash of his cigar. "Things could scarcely have turned out better, except for that unfortunate accident with McMurtrie." He paused.
I stopped at a book-shop just outside Victoria, which I had noticed on the previous evening. I wanted to order a copy of a book dealing with a certain branch of high explosives that I had forgotten to ask McMurtrie for, and when I had done that I took the opportunity of buying a couple of novels by Wells which had been published since I went to prison.
He was busy with the tiller, and for the moment was paying scant attention to any of us. McMurtrie got up with the cup in his hand and came across to where I was sitting. "Drink this," he said. "This," proved to be some excellent old brandy, which I tossed off with no little gratitude. It was exactly what I wanted to pull me together. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
Lyndon," said McMurtrie, courteously, "as a scientist yourself you don't imagine that it's beyond the art of an intelligent surgeon to cope with a little difficulty like that?" "But in what way?" I objected. "A disguise? Any one can see through a disguise except in novels." The doctor smiled. "I am not suggesting a wig and a pair of spectacles," he observed.
"It matters just sufficiently," I said, "that I'll see you in hell first." McMurtrie came slowly up to me, and looked me straight in the eyes. His face was white and terrible a livid mask of controlled anger. "You fool," he said almost pityingly. "You incredible fool! Do you imagine that you have any choice in the matter?"
It won't mean one thing in the way of extras for you, but I'm willing to pay more. Nothing except a little alcohol stove, and if your little girl could watch her for an hour or two once in a while, when I'm out, I'll pay her, too. Gladly. My bag is at the hospital. I'll send for it " "Be saving your breath," cried Mrs. McMurtrie, flinging her gesture upward with a cluck of the fingers.
I felt that if Sonia had gone straight to the authorities they would have acted before this, while if she was sleeping on her wrath there was no reason I shouldn't do the same. I had given up any expectation of McMurtrie until the next morning. I woke at half-past three, and resumed my vigil in the pure cool twilight of early dawn.
The aeroplane flew up; the crowd watched its ascension like adoring worshippers of some sky deity; and in three minutes it was a mere speck in the cloudless blue. Mr. John McMurtrie, editor of the Toronto Sphere, a capable journalist and a man of many friends, strolled into his office about three o'clock one Wednesday afternoon.
I had pretty good evidence that he was up against McMurtrie and the others in some shape or other, and presumably it was on account of my connection with them that I had been favoured with his attentions. Still, this didn't seem to make the situation any the more cheerful for me.
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