office forbids their canceling a special wire—unless they have Mr. Hartz's own authority to do so."
"Quite!" The voice of Endor grew grim. "And they don't need to be told that it may be absolutely impossible to get that authority by eleven o'clock."
"Of course. I made a strong point of that. Finally, I got Mr. Fuller's promise to keep your speech off the machines until a quarter to twelve. That is the very latest moment he can allow. But at least it gives us a little more time in which to do something."
"Pray, what can one do?"
"We must get through at once to the Chief himself."
"To Hartz?"
"Yes, to the mountain! Miss Mahomet is now going to ring up Carlton House Terrace."
Before Endor could interpose any real effort to hold her back, she was off again to the telephone.
The Club brandy continued to soothe his fretted nerves, but the calmer he grew, the higher his conviction mounted that the plot was deep laid, and that one woman, of no matter what will or what capacity, would not be allowed to undo it. All the same, it would be instructive to see how the game was played. The pre-*destined victim could take at least a morbid zest in observing the workings of "the machine." It had hardly started to move as yet, but all too soon his head would be in the basket.
Helen was back this time in three minutes. She looked decidedly crestfallen.
