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Updated: May 4, 2025
Rounceby rose to his feet and lit a cigar. Marnstam walked to the further window and back again. They stood side by side. Rounceby's whole frame seemed to have stiffened with some new emotion. "There's something wrong, Jim," Marnstam whispered softly in his ear. "You've got the old lady in your pocket?" "Yes!" Rounceby answered thickly, "and, by Heavens, I'm going to use it!"
Three o'clock struck by the little timepiece on the mantel shelf. A little exclamation of a profane nature broke from Rounceby's lips. He leaned toward his companion. "Say," he muttered, in a rather thick undertone, "how about this fellow Vincent Cawdor? You haven't any doubts about him, I suppose? He's on the square, all right, eh?" Marnstam wet his lips nervously. "Cawdor's all right," he said.
On her right, and nearest to the two men, was Mr. Vincent Cawdor. "Now you can go and talk to your friends!" she exclaimed, lightly. "I am going to make Victor listen to me." Cawdor left his two companions and sank on to the couch by Rounceby's side.
Cawdor moved his place and sat between the men. He laid a hand upon Marnstam's shoulder another on Rounceby's knee. "My dear friends," he said, impressively, "if you could have built a model, or conducted these negotiations in the usual way, you might have asked a million. As it is, I think I am the only man in England who could have dealt with this matter so satisfactorily."
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