Free The Man Who Bought London by Edgar Wallace

me, and what I might term the corrective discipline – never harsh and always justified – has fitted you for this; now don’t deny it!’ He shook a finger playfully at her.
    ‘It has certainly helped me to appreciate the change,’ she said.
    Mr Tack looked round at the waiting commissionaire, and then back to the girl with a meaning look.
    ‘I’d like a few private words with you,’ he said mysteriously.
    ‘This is as private an interview as I can give you, Mr Tack,’ said the girl with a smile. ‘You see, I am not exactly a principal in the business, and I have neither the authority nor the desire to engage in any undertaking which is not also my employer’s business.’
    Mr Tack swallowed something in his throat, but inclined his head graciously.
    ‘Very proper! very proper, indeed!’ he agreed, with hollow cordiality. ‘The more so since I hear rumours of a certain little trouble –’ He looked at her archly.
    The colour rose to her cheeks.
    ‘There is no need to refer to that, Mr Tack,’ she said coldly. ‘Mr Kerry had me arrested because he knew that my life was in danger – he has given me fullest permission to tell why. When you go out you will see a steel safe in the front office – it has a combination lock which opened to the word ‘Kingsway’. Mr Kerry gave me three words, the first of which would be the word which would open the safe. He told me this because he dare not write the word down. Then he realized that by doing so he had placed me in great danger. Men were sent to Smith Street, by somebody who guessed I knew the word, to force it from me, and Mr Kerry, guessing the plot, had me arrested, knowing that I should be safe in a police station. He came to London by special train to release me.’
    She might have added that Kerry had spent three hours in London searching for the Home Secretary before he couldsecure an order of release, for it is easier to lock up than to unlock.
    ‘Moreover,’ she added, ‘Mr Kerry generously offered me any sum I cared to mention to compensate me for the indignity.’
    ‘What did you ask?’ demanded Mr Tack eagerly, a contemptuous smile playing about his lips.
    ‘Nothing,’ she replied curtly, and waited for him to state his business.
    Again he looked round at the solid commissionaire, but received no encouragement from the girl.
    ‘Miss Marion,’ he said, dropping his voice, ‘you and I have always been good friends – I want you to help me now.’
    She ignored the wilful misstatement of fact, and he went on. ‘You know Mr Kerry’s mind – you’re the sort of young lady any gentleman would confide in: now tell me, as friend to friend, what is the highest Mr Kerry will give for Goulding’s?’
    ‘Are you in it, too?’ she asked in surprise. She somehow never regarded him as sufficiently ingenious to be connected with the plot, but he nodded.
    ‘The highest,’ he repeated persuasively.
    ‘Half a million,’ said the girl. It was marvellous how easily the fat sum tripped from her lips.
    ‘But, seriously?’
    ‘Half a million, and the offer is open till Saturday,’ she said. ‘I have just written Goulding’s a letter to that effect.’
    ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!’ said Mr Tack rapidly, but wearily. ‘Why don’t you persuade the old gentleman to be reasonable?’
    A steely gleam came into her eyes. He remembered the episode of the inkpot and grew apprehensive.
    ‘Which “old gentleman” are you referring to?’ she asked icily.
    Tack made haste to repair his error, and blundered still further. ‘Of course,’ he apologized, ‘I oughtn’t to speak like that about Mr Kerry.’
    ‘Oh, Mr Kerry!’ She smiled pityingly at the other. ‘Mr Kerry is not, I should imagine, as old as you by ten years,’ she said brutally. ‘A strenuous life often brings grey hairs to a young man just as a sedentary life brings grossness to a middle-aged man.’
    Mr Tack showed his teeth in a smile from which genuine merriment was