Concluding his narration he laid the official correspondence before him, and got up to open the door.  The night was black and terrible, the heat came in overwhelming puffs, as though blown from a blast furnace.  He leaned against the doorpost and wiped his forehead.  The oppression of the atmosphere was like a tangible, crushing weight.  Behind him the paper on the wall rustled vaguely, but there was no other sound.  After several minutes he turned briskly back again into the room, whistling a sentimental ditty below his breath.

“Well, old chap, it was worth waiting for, eh?  And now, I suppose, you’ll be making a bee-line for home, you lucky beggar.  I shan’t be long after you, that’s one comfort.  Pity we can’t go together.  I suppose you can’t wait till the winter.”

“No, my boy.  I’m afraid I can’t.”  Conyers spoke with a faint smile, his eyes still fixed upon the blue official paper that held his destiny.  “I’m going home forthwith, and be damned to everything and everybody—­except you.  It’s an understood thing, you know, Palliser, that we are partners in this deal.”

“Oh, rot!” exclaimed Palliser impetuously.  “I don’t agree to that.  I did nothing but polish the thing up.  You’d have done it yourself if I hadn’t.”

“In the course of a few more years,” put in Conyers drily.

“Rot!” said Palliser again.  “Besides, I don’t want any pelf.  I’ve quite as much as is good for me, more than I want.  That’s why I’m going to get married.  You’ll be going the same way yourself now, I suppose?”

“You have no reason whatever for thinking so,” responded Conyers.

Palliser laughed lightheartedly and sat down on the table.  “Oh, haven’t I?  What about that mysterious locked drawer of yours?  Don’t be shy, I say!  You had it open when I came in.  Show her to me like a good chap!  I won’t tell a soul.”

“That’s not where I keep my love-tokens,” said Conyers, with a grim twist of the mouth that was not a smile.

“What then?” asked Palliser eagerly.  “Not another invention?”

“No.”  Conyers inserted the key in the lock again, turned it, and pulled open the drawer.  “See for yourself as you are so anxious.”

Palliser leaned across the table and looked.  The next instant his glance flashed upwards, and their eyes met.

There was a sharply-defined pause.  Then, “You’d never be fool enough for that, Jack!” ejaculated Palliser, with vehemence.

“I’m fool enough for anything,” said Conyers, with his cynical smile.

“But you wouldn’t,” the other protested almost incoherently.  “A fellow like you—­I don’t believe it!”

“It’s loaded,” observed Conyers quietly.  “No, leave it alone, Hugh!  It can remain so for the present.  There is not the smallest danger of its going off—­or I shouldn’t have shown it to you.”

He closed the drawer again, looking steadily into Hugh Palliser’s face.