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As the meal progressed this became less of an effort, for young Wylie’s voice was strident. The Wylie conversation had ever been limited largely to the Wylies, their accomplishments, their purposes, and their prospects; and now having the floor as host, he talked mainly about himself, his father, and their forthcoming Barrata Bridge contract. It was his evident endeavor this evening to impress his distinguished guests with the tremendous importance of the Atlantic Bridge Company and its unsurpassed facilities for handling big jobs. A large part of young Wylie’s experience had been acquired by manipulating municipal contracts and the aldermen connected therewith; he now worked along similar lines. Hanford soon learned that he was trying in every way possible to induce Drummond and his associates to accompany him back to America for the purpose of proving beyond peradventure that the Atlantic could take care of a five-million-dollar contract with ease.

“As if they’d go!” Lowe said, softly. “And yet–by Jove! he talks as if he had the job buttoned up.”

The Englishman was alert, his dramatic instinct was at play; recognizing the significance of Wylie’s offer and its possible bearing upon Hanford’s fortunes, he waved the waiter away, knowing better than to permit the rattle of dishes to distract his host’s attention.

Meanwhile, with clenched teeth and smoldering eyes Henry Hanford heard his rival in the next compartment identify the State of New Jersey by the fact that the works of the Atlantic Bridge Company were located therein, and dignify it by the fact that the Jackson Wylies lived there.

“You know, gentlemen,” Wylie was saying, “I can arrange the trip without the least difficulty, and I assure you there will be no discomfort. I am in constant cipher communication with my father, and he will be delighted to afford you every courtesy. I can fix it up by cable in a day.”

Hanford arose with a silent gesture to his guest, then, although the meal was but half over, he paid the bill. He had closed his campaign. Right then and there he landed the great Barrata Bridge contract.

Lowe, mystified beyond measure by his friend’s action, made no comment until they were outside. Then he exclaimed:

“I say, old top, what blew off?”

Hanford smiled at him queerly. “The whole top of young Wylie’s head blew off, if he only knew it. It’s my day to settle that score, and the interest will be compounded.”

“I must be extremely stupid.”

“Not at all. You’re damned intelligent, and that’s why I’m going to need your help.” Hanford turned upon the adventurer suddenly. “Have you ever been an actor?”

Lowe made a comical grimace. “I say, old man, that’s pretty rough. My people raised me for a gentleman.”

“Exactly. Come with me to my hotel. We’re going to do each other a great favor. With your help and the help of Mr. Jackson Wylie the Second’s London clerk, I’m going to land the Barrata Bridge.”

Hanford had not read his friend Lowe awrong, and when, behind locked doors, he outlined his plan, the big fellow gazed at him with amazement, his blue eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Gad! That appeals to me. I–think I can do it.” There was no timidity in Lowe’s words, merely a careful consideration of the risks involved.

Hanford gripped his hand. “I’ll attend to Wylie’s clerk,” he declared. “Now we’d better begin to rehearse.”

“But what makes you so positive you can handle his clerk?” queried Lowe.

“Oh, I’ve studied him the same way I’ve studied you! I’ve been doing nothing else for the last month.”

“Bli’ me, you’re a corker!” said Mr. Lowe.

* * * * *

Back in Newark, New Jersey, Jackson Wylie, Sr., was growing impatient. In spite of his son’s weekly reports he had begun to fret at the indefinite nature of results up to date. This dissatisfaction it was that had induced him to cable his invitation to the Royal Commission to visit the Atlantic plant. Mr. Jackson Wylie, Sr., had a mysterious way of closing contracts once he came in personal contact with the proper people. In the words of his envious competitors, he had “good terminal facilities,” and he felt sure in his own mind that he could get this job if only he could meet some member of that Commission who possessed the power to act. Business was bad, and in view of his son’s preliminary reports he had relied upon the certainty of securing this tremendous contract; he had even turned work away so that his plant might be ready for the rush, with the result that many of his men now were idle and that he was running far below capacity. But he likewise had his eye upon those English bonuses, and when his associates rather timidly called his attention to the present state of affairs he assured them bitingly that he knew his business. Nevertheless, he could not help chafing at delay nor longing for the time to come to submit the bid that had lain for a month upon his desk. The magnitude of the figures contained therein was getting on Mr. Wylie’s nerves.