wants something to do. Two or three hundred thousand is nothing to him. He’ll put it up all right.”
The subject of Stott and his reactions to the proposal eventually became exhausted, Bristow turned to another point. “We’ve been taking the cost of the ship at a hundred thousand, but we mayn’t be right. I mentioned it because the
Berengaria
is supposed to have been sold for that. I wonder if we should make some tentative enquiries about the
Hellenic?”
“I thought you’d done so.”
“No. I assumed the two ships would cost about the same.”
Morrison thought this was scarcely satisfactory. “We should surely be able to say to Stott: she’s to be had for so much? How should we find out?”
“Go to the Lilac Star people, I suppose. Their offices are in Cockspur Street.”
“What about after lunch tomorrow? I could get leave for an hour.”
Bristow agreed enthusiastically. Though neither realised it, what they both wanted was action, and for this they would have jumped at any excuse.
Their interview, however, did not work out exactly as they had planned. Bristow’s professional card gave them immediate access to the secretary, a polite man named Amberley.
“We shall not keep you long, Mr Amberley,” Bristow assured him. “We called to make some enquiries about the sale of the
Hellenic
. I’m acting for some parties who might wish to buy her, and I should like any details which are available as to cost and conditions of sale.”
“Well,” the Secretary smiled, “perhaps the point which will interest you most is that she’s practically sold.”
Bristow’s jaw dropped. “Sold!” he ejaculated in evident dismay.
“Not exactly sold,” Amberley qualified. “As a matter of fact, a company has got an option on her. They’re not quite certain yet whether they will buy.”
“Oh,” said Bristow, with some relief, “then the matter’s not finally closed. I’m glad to hear that, for I shall probably be able to make an offer on behalf of my clients. I suppose,” he smiled deprecatingly, “it would be indiscreet to enquire if it’s for breaking-up that she’s wanted?”
Amberley hesitated. “I don’t think so,” he said presently. “As a matter of fact, it’s for popular cruising: a new venture altogether.”
Bristow’s eyes goggled. For a moment he did not speak, then his brows drew together and Morrison could see that he was thinking deeply. Presently he slapped his thigh and broke into a laugh.
“Don’t tell me,” he said with every appearance of amusement, “that it’s Home Waters Cruising Limited?”
Amberley looked surprised. “Why, that’s just what it is. Do you know them?”
Bristow laughed again. “Do I know them?” he repeated. “Well I should think so! Why, it’s for Home Waters Cruising Limited that I’m acting! I’m their secretary.” He turned to Morrison. “That’s Malthus, or I’m a Dutchman. You can’t get ahead of Mr Malthus. Our Chairman, Mr Amberley. He’s stolen a march on me. A misunderstanding, of course. It was Mr Malthus, I suppose?”
The secretary seemed a little perplexed at this method of doing business, but evidently considered it was nothing to him and smiled politely. “Yes, it was Mr Malthus. He called to see me himself. He said he hadn’t all the money he wanted yet, but he expected to get the balance in a day or two.”
“That’s correct,” Bristow declared. “We have promises for practically the whole sum.” He grinned realistically at Morrison. “Now, isn’t that like him! To call here without telling me –
me
, the secretary – and fix up an option and then go off and get influenza without saying a word about it! I suppose you know something about chairmen, too, Mr Amberley?” Bristow did not wink, but he looked facetious.
The secretary shook his head lugubriously, suggesting melancholy experiences of an unpleasant side of life.
“And I don’t even know the figure you finally agreed on,” went on
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley