A Rogue by Compulsion: An Affair of the Secret ServiceBridges, Victor
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A Rogue by Compulsion: An Affair of the Secret Service
Bridges, Victor
Secret service -- Fiction; Spy stories
Tommy pulled up a fresh plate and helped himself to some cheese.
"She must be pretty keen on you," he observed.
"Well, you needn't rub it in, Tommy," I said. "I feel quite enough of
a cad as it is."
"You're not," interrupted Joyce indignantly. "If she really loves you,
of course she wants to help you whether you love her or not."
"Still, she'll expect a _quid pro quo_," persisted Tommy.
"Then it isn't love," returned Joyce scornfully, "and in that case
there's no need to bother about her."
This seemed a most logical point of view, and I determined to adopt it
for the future if my conscience would allow me.
"What about your invention?" asked Tommy. "How long will it take you
to work it out?"
"Well, as a matter of fact," I said, "it is worked out--as much as any
invention can be without being put to a practical test. I was just on
that when the smash came. I had actually made some of the powder and
proved its power, but I'd never tried it on what one might call a
working basis. If they've given me all the things I want, I don't see
any reason why I shouldn't fix it up in two or three days. There's
no real difficulty in its manufacture. I wasn't too definite with
McMurtrie. I thought it best to give myself a little margin."
Tommy nodded. "You've handled the whole thing splendidly up till
now," he said. "I rather think it's the ticklish part that's coming,
though." Then he paused. "Look here!" he added suddenly. "I've got a
great notion. Why shouldn't we run down tomorrow in the _Betty_ and
have a squint at this place of yours? There's nothing like taking a
few soundings when you're not too sure about things."
I drew in a deep breath. "I'd love to, Tommy," I said, "but it's
rather asking for trouble, isn't it? Suppose there was still someone
about there? If McMurtrie had the faintest idea I'd given away the
show--"
"He won't," interrupted Tommy; "he can't. We'll take precious good
care of that. Listen here: I've got the whole thing mapped out in my
mind. The _Betty's_ at Leigh, where I laid her up yesterday. I had a
seven-horse-power Kelvin engine put in her last year, so we can get
up, whatever the wind is--I know the tide will be about right. Well,
my idea is that we three go down to Leigh tomorrow morning and take
her up to this place Cunnock Creek, or somewhere near. Then if it's
all serene you can land and have a look round; if there seems to be
any one about we can just push off again. Joyce and I won't show up at
all, anyway: we'll stop on board and let you do the scouting."
"Yes, yes," exclaimed Joyce, her eyes shining eagerly. "Let's go. It
can't do any harm, and you might find out all sorts of useful things."
"Besides," added Tommy, "it would be the deuce of a day, and it's a
long time since any of us had a good day, eh, Joyce?"
"Three years," said Joyce quietly.
That decided me. "Right you are," I said. "You're--you're something
like pals, you two."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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