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to Jerez — where the girl is,” he added laughingly.
The object of their discussion finished his tenth cigarette and sat up in his chair with a grunt.
“I forgot to tell you,” Leon went on, “that today, when we were taking our exercise walk, Thery was considerably interested in the posters he saw everywhere, and was particularly curious to know why so many people were reading them. I had to find a lie on the spur of the minute, and I hate lying” — Gonsalez was perfectly sincere. “I invented a story about racing or lotteries or something of the sort, and he was satisfied.”
Thery had caught his name in spite of its anglicised pronunciation, and looked inquiry.
“We will leave you to amuse our friend,” said Manfred, rising. “Poiccart and I have a few experiments to make.”
The two left the room, traversed the narrow passage, and paused before a small door at the end. A larger door on the right, padlocked and barred, led to the studio. Drawing a small key from his pocket, Manfred opened the door, and, stepping into the room, switched on a light that shone dimly through a dust-covered bulb. There had been some attempt at restoring order from the chaos. Two shelves had been cleared of rubbish, and on these stood rows of bright little phials, each bearing a number. A rough table had been pushed against the wall beneath the shelves, and on the green baize with which the table was covered was a litter of graduated measures, test tubes, condensers, delicate scales, and two queer-shaped glass machines, not unlike gas generators.
Poiccart pulled a chair to the table, and gingerly lifted a metal cup that stood in a dish of water. Manfred, looking over his shoulder, remarked on the consistency of the liquid that half filled the vessel, and Poiccart bent his head, acknowledging the remark as though it were a compliment.
“Yes,” he said, satisfied, “it is a complete success, the formula is quite right. Some day we may want to use this.”
He replaced the cup in its bath, and reaching beneath the table, produced from a pail a handful of ice-dust, with which he carefully surrounded the receptacle.
“I regard that as the multum in farvo of explosives,” he said, and took down a small phial from the shelf, lifted the stopper with the crook of his little finger, and poured a few drops of a whitish liquid into the metal cup.
“That neutralises the elements,” said Poiccart, and gave a sigh of relief. “I am not a nervous man, but the present is the first comfortable moment I have had for two days.”
“It makes an abominable smell,” said Manfred, with his handkerchief to his nose.
A thin smoke was rising from the cup.
“I never notice those things,” Poiccart replied, dipping a thin glass rod into the mess. He lifted the rod, and watched reddish drops dripping from the end.
“That’s all right,” he said.
“And it is an explosive no more?” asked Manfred.
“It is as harmless as a cup of chocolate.”
Poiccart wiped the rod on a rag, replaced the phial, and turned to his companion.
“And now?” he asked.
Manfred made no answer, but unlocked an old-fashioned safe that stood in the corner of the room. From this he removed a box of polished wood. He opened the box and disclosed the contents.
“If Thery is the good workman he says he is, here is the bait that shall lure Sir Philip Ramon to his death,” he said.
Poiccart looked. “Very ingenious,” was his only comment. Then— “Does Thery know, quite know, the stir it has created?”
Manfred closed the lid and replaced the box before he replied.
“Does Thery know that he is the fourth Just Man?” he asked; then slowly, “I think not — and it is as well as he does not know; a thousand pounds is roughly thirty-three thousand pesetas, and there is the free pardon — and the girl at Jerez,” he added thoughtfully.
A brilliant idea came to Smith, the reporter, and he carried it to the chief.
“Not bad,” said the editor, which meant that the idea was really very good— “not bad at all.”
“It occurred to me,” said the gratified reporter, “that one or two of the four might be foreigners who don’t understand a word of English.”
“Quite so,” said the chief; “thank you for the suggestion. I’ll have it done tonight.”
Which dialogue accounts for the fact that the next morning the Megaphone appeared with the police notice in French, Italian, German — and Spanish.
Chapter V
The Outrage at the ‘Megaphone’
The editor of the Megaphone, returning from dinner, met the super-chief on the stairs. The super-chief, boyish of face, withdrew his mind from the mental contemplation of a new project (Megaphone House is the home of new projects) and inquired after the Four Just Men.
“The excitement is keeping up,” replied the editor. “People are talking of nothing else but the coming debate on the Extradition Bill, and the Government is taking every precaution against an attack upon Ramon.”
“What is the feeling?”
The editor shrugged his shoulders.
“Nobody really believes that anything will happen in spite of the bomb.”
The super-chief thought for a moment, and then quickly:
“What do you think?”
The editor laughed.
“I think the threat will never be fulfilled; for once the Four have struck against a snag. If they hadn’t warned Ramon they might have done something, but forewarned — —”
“We shall see,” said the super-chief, and went home.
The editor wondered, as he climbed the stairs, how much longer the Four would fill the contents bill of his newspaper, and rather hoped that they would make their attempt, even though they met with a failure, which he regarded as inevitable.
His room was locked and in darkness, and he fumbled in his pocket for the key, found it, turned the lock, opened the door and entered.
“I wonder,” he mused, reaching out of his hand and pressing down the switch of the light…
There was a blinding flash, a quick splutter of flame, and the room was in darkness again.
Startled, he retreated to the corridor and called for a light.
“Send for the electrician,” he roared; “one of these damned fuses has gone!”
A lamp revealed the room to be filled with a pungent smoke; the electrician discovered that every globe had been carefully removed from its socket and placed on the table.
From one of the brackets suspended a curly length of thin wire which ended in a small black box, and it was from this that thick fumes were issuing.
“Open the windows,” directed the editor; and a bucket of water having been brought, the little box was dropped carefully into it.
Then it was that the editor discovered the letter — the greenish-grey letter that lay upon his desk. He took it up, turned it over, opened it, and noticed that the gum on the flap was still wet.
Honoured Sir
(ran the note), when you turned on your light this evening you probably imagined for an instant that you were a victim of one of those ‘outrages’ to which you are fond of referring.