Number 70, Berlin: A Story of Britain's Peril
"Yes. At the Constitutional. I'm meeting a man there."

So the pair, leaving the room, were helped on with their overcoats by an obsequious liveried servant and, descending in the lift, passed through the handsome set of offices where a hundred clerks were working beneath the electric-light, and out into Gracechurch Street, where Rodwell's fine limousine was awaiting him; the footman standing with the fur rug ready to throw over his master's knees.

On their way through the City the elder man reverted to the subject they had discussed in the boardroom of The Ochrida Copper Corporation--one of the greatest copper concerns in the world--and, drawing a long breath, he said:

"I really do hope that young fellow heard nothing. What if he knew--eh?"

"Of course he heard," was his co-director's reply. "But whether he understood is quite another thing."

"I fear he did understand."

"Why?"

"Because, as he left the room, I watched his face, and saw both suspicion and surprise upon it."

"Bah! My dear Boyle, don't let that worry you for a second longer," Rodwell laughed, as the car sped silently along Queen Victoria Street and across to the Embankment. "Even if he does suspect he'll soon be rendered quite harmless. When Lewin Rodwell makes up his mind to sweep an enemy from his path, you know that the enemy always disappears."

"I know that," replied the Baronet, with a slight hardening at the corners of his flabby mouth. Perhaps he recollected the fate of certain other enemies. He well knew the callous unscrupulousness of his friend and associate in his determined efforts to get rich quickly. Indeed, they had both got rich very quickly--more especially Rodwell--during the past four or five years by methods which would never bear investigation. Yet, as in so many other cases in our great complex London, the world regarded him as a perfectly honest and trustworthy man--a true Briton, who was ever ready to place both his valuable time and his money at the disposal of the British cause against her barbaric enemy.

"Sainsbury will never trouble us, I assure you," he repeated, as at last Sir Boyle alighted in Northumberland Avenue, 
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